


Any Other Night

by orphan_account



Category: Muse
Genre: AU, Drama, M/M, Urban Fantasy, Vampires, contemporary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:29:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a breakup and a rough night on the booze, Dom has a run-in with a vampire and finds his life changed forever. But just when he thinks things can't get worse, he meets Matt Bellamy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**one**

 

It began just like any other night, really.

I knew she was going to break up with me. Just _knew_ it. She’d been dropping not-so-subtle hints of disdain and boredom of our relationship for months, and our last date- two weeks ago, the last time I’d seen her- I’d got the _forehead kiss_. It was by then that our fate was sealed, I think. It’s the kiss of death. And then she calls out of the blue, her voiced coloured in sombre tones as she invited (and I use the term _very loosely_ ) me out, and I know by the time I see her sat staring at the bottom of her glass, a little frown on her greyish face, that our time together is already in its death throes.

She had her dark lashes hiding her eyes from me the entire time. Hunched over like a gargoyle. I realised that I no longer remembered the colour of her eyes. That’s why I think it all came to this rather miserable end, in this tatty little pub which stank heavily of cigarette smoke and was teeming with old depressed drunks with sagging faces, and rain that spat despondently, almost reluctantly, from a darkening, smoke-dull sky. We didn’t love each other. We didn’t even care about each other platonically. We were literally two passing strangers who had only become involved with each other for the sake of it. And I really, really thought that she’d be ashamed of it. I knew I wouldn’t be. I was never sorry back then.

We sat in awkward silence for a good half an hour. I tried to make light conversation. We mentioned staying in touch, both fully aware that it wouldn’t work. The words carried neither meaning nor effect, like pallid snow that won’t stick. Eventually, she left, with a cold and lifeless hand-shake, passing through the glass doors like a shade. And I sat there wondering why there wasn’t an ache in my chest, why I couldn’t feel any loss, no matter how little she meant to me. I’d been rejected. I’d been told I wasn’t good enough. I almost desired misery because it would reaffirm my own humanity. But the salvation of sadness never came. Instead, I ordered another drink and waited for alcohol to ferry my emotions to me instead.

I don’t really remember how long I was there. All I know is that it was dark when I left, and there weren’t many streetlights out in the cold. Everything was spinning and dancing and whirling in fierce, brassy movements and my head throbbed as if my brain were swelling. There was blood on my lip. My own, I think. But I’d done something bad. I’d hurt someone. Got hurt myself. Shouting. Hands. A shove in the chest. _You’re fucking barred, mate._

I couldn’t walk straight. Legs wobbled and crossed. I didn’t know where I was going anyway. I couldn’t stop thinking about how the wet pavement splashed with bronze light in a lurid alien shine that made me feel sick. Stomach lurched. I fell and drew more blood, from my knees now. God, I didn’t know what I was doing. I didn’t know why I’d done this to myself and I hated myself and I crawled to a breezeblock wall and sat there, sighing to myself. Too hot. Too cold. Everything’s too much.

I never heard him coming. My breath, misty and coming in shallow, heavy gasps, must have been too loud. And I couldn’t stop thinking about my bleeding lip and my stinging knees which felt uncomfortable and gritty on the grimy floor. I thought I would get blood poisoning. I was going to get sick and die. And I was going to throw up, I thought. I was so preoccupied with this that I didn’t know he was there until he was stood over me and I was drowned in his shadow.

I yelled but all the air was knocked out of me as he grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me hard against the wall. I couldn’t breathe. His fingernails jabbed into my arms and his breath was tickling my neck and I was too tired, too scared to struggle. I made some weak, whimpered protests but it was so quiet even I couldn’t hear. My own voice felt distant and hollow. My body didn’t feel like my own. And I was annoyed that my knees still hurt until I felt the most wicked, awful pain I had ever felt in my life.

My neck. God, it was awful. Something was cutting away at my neck, piercing the tender skin right on the jugular vein, and the pain was so vicious- it was like each point was soaked in a corrosive acid that was burning away at my skin and my veins. I wanted so much to move, but I couldn’t. My limbs fell limp and useless, everything going dead and lethargic. I couldn’t raise my hand to look at it, never mind use it to fight back. And my legs- they lost all feeling, and I’m sure the cuts on my knees vanished. I felt a fool for worrying about them. I stumbled, and fell again, and the huge arms constricted me again. I’d fallen into him like a broken doll. I could not escape him now.

I hung like that in his arms for a while. _Pathetic_. It was sick and ironic, the way his grip held me up, as if he were somehow protecting me. I wanted to sob, but I realised with horror that I was losing the power to breathe and speak. My writhing guts slowed and halted, and with a sickening shudder, I decided to resign. I couldn’t fight this. Death had come for me and there was nothing I could do but accept it. He let go, and as I fell sprawling to the floor I was sure I was dead. I couldn’t close my eyes but I could already feel the world slipping away out of reach, petering out beyond some distant horizon. I tried to contemplate the meaning of my existence, but the alcohol and the foul poison he’d injected into me slowed my thoughts. I only heard the thud of my own head hitting the ground several seconds after it happened. And then, just as the coldness I feared began to creep across my skin, I tasted something on my tongue.

Rich and nutritious, tangy, exciting and hot. The coldness melted like thawing ice. Something was jammed into my parted lips, a hand, no, a wrist; and it was bleeding. As each drop hit the back of my throat I felt a strange sensation; hunger. A fierce, roasting hunger that began to brew in my stomach and demanded more. A jolt flew through my arms and instantly they grasped the arm, nails scraping against skin. I had no choice in the matter- it was instinct, survival taking over, my body thinking when my mind could not. But as I drank, I realised that the liquid was festering inside me; it was rebelling against me, burning my insides with a caustic fury. My body spasmed. Gasped and gagged, sobbed and screamed in protest against my own body.  I wanted to throw up now. I wanted to die- anything to make it stop!

I was finally put out of my misery with a short sharp kick to the head.

And to think it started like any other night.


	2. Chapter 2

**two**

 

I was grateful to be knocked out in the end, I think. Though I woke with a pounding headache and was plagued with sickening, grotesque dreams, where bloodbathed bodies squirmed, adorned with livid red, it was still preferable to hours of that solid, burning pain. It had left, however, when I awoke to faint sunlight. I rose from the ground with aching bones and terrible empty feeling inside me. My body felt as if it had been disembowelled; I slowly rose to my feet, feeling fragile and with a sour taste in my mouth which I presumed was bile.

It must have been a dream, I thought, as I looked down. Ripped jeans. Grazed knees. A few drops of blood on my shirt. My lip felt swollen and my neck ached. Fuck, I must have got drunk and been in a punch-up. When I checked, my wallet had been emptied too. My hangover, though, was mysteriously absent.

I attempted one step but my leg collapsed beneath me and I fell to the floor in a painful mess. Several attempts later, and feeling a little like a new-born fawn, I propped myself up against the wall, took a deep breath, and looked up at the sky. It had that warm sort of glow, the colour of sunshine filtering through the creamy folds of duvet in the morning. Dawn. I must have been out about seven hours.

This wasn’t like me at all. Getting drunk wasn’t even a common occurrence. I was relatively tame back then and the experience of getting beaten up and sleeping rough was a new one. If I’m honest, I was frightened. My memory was still muzzy and the horrendous visions of the night before were still swimming in my brain in even more twisted, abstract forms.

I took the scenic route home. There wasn’t really anyone else out on the streets, too early. Barely any cars. The empty feeling wasn’t helped by walking. I felt weaker than I’d ever done before in my life. I wondered if perhaps I was starving, somehow, but I didn’t know how that could be possible. As I descended into the subway, my hands had to grasp on the cold railings for dear life, or I’d have fallen face first onto the concrete below.

Before I saw him, I was aware of a hooded youth coming the other way. I wondered why he was out at this time. It was prejudiced of me, but my first guess was that he’d committed a crime in the early hours of the morning. I even considered that it was the man who’d beaten me up, and that frightened me. I tried to veer away from him, and I felt shudders creep over my skin, but cruel fate made me meet his eyes. They were deeply set and dark, with purplish rings around them. He had a large, bulbous spot on the side of his nose that, try as I might, I couldn’t keep my eyes off. He must have caught me looking, because before I knew it he was heading straight for me.

“You got a problem, mate?” He snarled in a deep, gruff voice. “You got a fucking problem?”

“I-I,” _Shit._ I hadn’t spoken yet, and my voice seemed so tiny and hoarse. I was suddenly aware of how dry and gritty my throat felt. And bizarrely, how warm it was now that he was near me. Peculiar. But it wasn’t a pleasant heat. It was uncomfortable. Threatening. Unbearably hot and sticky. He must have thought I was high or something, because my breathing started getting so heavy and fast. I felt trapped.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He grabbed my collar and shoved me. And he wouldn’t leave me alone, buzzing around me like a bluebottle _. Go away. Leave me alone._ “What’s your fucking problem with me, pussy?” _I don’t like this_.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you!”

_I’m scared._

“Fucking look!”

_I’ve been through so much._

“Look at me, you fucking faggot!”

_I’m so thirsty._

“Fucking-“

And then I tasted it again. There was a flash of red and a blur of movement. I barely knew what was happening, but then I realised. I could taste blood. It was different from before. It was glorious.

And then the scene unfolds in front of me. Blood. Blood everywhere. It doesn’t look real, it doesn’t look real at all, but the floor of the subway is coated in red.

The hoodie isn’t buzzing around me anymore. He’s on the floor, and his throat’s torn out. The dark, dark blood isn’t just flowing from him; it’s exploded like pretty fireworks on the whitewashed walls, the vibrant colour painting the surroundings in every direction. Hellishly beautiful. Then I become aware that I’m not thirsty anymore, and I don’t feel empty. I feel great.

I’d killed him.

I’d killed him, and I’d drank his blood.

I sank to my knees. Blood on my hands. Blood all over my clothes. I couldn’t go anywhere like this. I’d get caught. And my bizarre mixture of grief and fear was coming out in half-gasps, half-sobs. It hit me, then. It wasn’t a dream. The worst had happened in that alley last night. Every bedtime story that my mother had told me was true. _They_ were out there. _They_ existed and now, now… I was one of them.

I ran. I couldn’t stay there, I just had to get away. I tried my best to stay out of plain sight. I had no idea where I was going. I couldn’t go home. What if my flatmate came to see if I was okay and I killed him, too? Or my landlady? Or my mum? Somewhere where there were no people. That’s where I had to go. But there’s people fucking everywhere. The day was breaking, and they were everywhere. I considered the irony that I thought _he_ was on the run from a crime. Life has a strange sense of humour.

I ran out of breath about a mile from where it’d happened. I finally took in the state of my clothing- red dripping down from my neck, where it must have dribbled down from my mouth. I felt a pain in my gums, but when I checked with my tongue, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Just the familiar taste of my own blood as it mixed with his. My knees were red too, where I’d kneeled in the wine-coloured puddle. Almost subconsciously, my hand began to move up to feel the aching side of my neck. Sure enough, there was a scab there. _So it’s true, then._

“Hey!”

I span around, and a gigantic man stood before me. My first reaction was to cave in on myself in a desperately futile attempt to hide the inflamed stains that would give me away, but not even a flicker of fear entertained the highlights of his face that were visible. I could only see the rim of his brow and the top of his cheekbones. A sheet of blackness from the surrounding buildings hid the rest of him.

Now that I realised it, we were in an extremely run-down area of town. I’d never been here before. In all the years of my childhood that my family had raised me here, twenty-five years, I’d never been to this place. Not that I’d want to. The whole place had a horrible stink of death, some sullen, shadowy district that I had the awful feeling I belonged to now.

“Y-yes?” I was surprised I’d even managed to speak. I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to in case I hurt him, too.

He looked up and down, scanning my body. “Dear god, what did you do?” He sighed in something akin to pity. He stepped out of his shadows, and the cloudy morning light revealed a muscular man with subtly toned clothes and a curly crop of hair, with a peppery beard dotted messily about a small, tight frown.

“I…I killed someone,” I gasped, trying to suppress the wet sob that unexpectedly followed. “I think I killed someone, and I didn’t mean to, but-“

“Hey, I’m not going to arrest you, or hurt you, or anything,” He had a calm voice that slightly subdued my barely contained hysteria. And then he said something that surprised me. “I’m like you. There’s no need to worry.”

I blinked slowly. Really? Was this down-to-earth, so modestly-dressed giant such a monster? Was it just a front, or by some miracle had he escaped to a higher moral level?

“I’m scared,” My raspy voice came again. “Where am I gonna go, what am I going to do?”

He walked towards me slowly, bent down and placed a relaxed hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay,” He murmured softly. “There’s a place for you here, and we’re going to look after you, you hear me?”

I nodded, and felt tears slide down my cheeks. But what on earth could this grotty little place offer? All I could take in around me was litter and smashed windows and a dreadful silence. To be truthful I feared the existence that awaited me.

And I was right to.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**three**

 

My first impression of the place Chris (as I later learned was his name) took me to was one of repulsion. It was dank, and reeked of alcohol and sweat, extremely dark and hazy with smoke. The walls were covered in offensively-coloured wallpaper from too long ago, and gaudy rugs covered the ratty carpets in too-bright colours. Music was playing in a scratchy timbre from a vintage radio sat on a bar in avocado green, where another man obscured by darkness (as almost everyone here seemed to be) idly wiped away at mismatched pint glasses. The tune was one I’d heard before somewhere, maybe as a child, and the mysterious bartender whistled along, his black eyes glittering and following the two of us as I was led in. Through his whistling I made out a few lyrics despite the poor sound quality:

_I'm not content to be with you in the daytime,_

_Girl I want to be with you all of the time,_

_The only time I feel alright is by your side,_

_Girl I want to be with you all of the time,_

_All day and all of the night…_

“There’s not many people here now, but come night-time they’ll all come round,” Chris turned to me. “I’ll see if I can get you a room.”

I didn’t mention to him how I really didn’t want to stay here. It was vile, and I didn’t like the idea of sharing my abode with a whole nest of vampires. What would they do to me? What if there was some horrid kind of initiation ceremony they would put me through? Didn’t he have a place anywhere I could stay where there wouldn’t be anyone else?

“Tom,” He addressed the bartender gruffly. “This is…” He looked over to me.

“Dom.”

Tom chuckled lightly.

“Tom, Dom needs an _unda_ to stay.” I quirked an eyebrow. Perhaps this was some kind of weird vampire slang. “For a while. I’ll give you the _banny_ for it.” I presumed this meant money, as he retrieved his wallet and handed over the contents to Tom.

“He your _coppil_ , then?” The bartender smirked, looking over Chris’ shoulder, right at me. “Made a right mess, hasn’t he?” He glanced mockingly at my still-red garments.

“No,” Chris growled. “Just found him outside looking like a right _pacca_. I think he got deserted.”

Their business done, Tom slunk out of the bar area and towards me. He took a good look at me, that irritating, patronizing smirk not leaving his face for one instant, then met my eyes. “We’ll have some new _hanes_ for you, and we’ll put those in the wash.”

“What?” I gaped gormlessly.

A sigh. “Clothes. We’ll wash your clothes.”

I nodded sheepishly and was led to my room.

 

*

 

“So, you had a nice _guster_ this morning?”

We were walking through the smelly, dim corridors upstairs of the bar, in the inn I had yet to learn the name of. Tom had given me a key with the number 7 on, murmuring something about _ginno,_ part of his endless stream of nonsense words. Even now I had no idea what he was talking about. But I went along with it.

“Er, yes. Yes I did.”

He reached my room, and opened the door with a mournful creak. “Who’s your _tata_? I might know the old _presh_.” He realised I’d need an explanation before I could reply, rolling his eyes. “Who did this to you?”

“I don’t know. I was drunk, I don’t remember much.”

“But was it a _presh_ or a _damma_?” He pressed.

I was momentarily stumped. “Er…it was a man.”

“And it wasn’t Chris?”

“No. He’s too tall.”

 A pause. “Very _dooby_.” He muttered, raising an eyebrow in mock melodrama. He revealed my room in a rather anticlimactic fashion.

If anything, it was even worse than downstairs. Bad-taste ornaments crowded on every surface, a dusty old heater where a television would have ideally been, a disgustingly matted beige fur rug and a bed with a knitted throw, every colour perceptible by the human eye sewn into its frankly disturbing pattern, and I could swear there were worrying stains on the unmade sheets beneath. I could smell damp, and knew mould must be lurking behind the pale green-striped wallpaper, and the scent of cigarette smoke rose chokingly from the shag carpet. The only source of light was thrown from a meagre window, and even that was dull. A little lamp lay on the bedside table, but the cable had been chewed through and it looked like there were too many porcelain dolls cluttering the table for me to reach the switch anyway.

“I know it’s a bit _molloz_ , but to be honest, _presh_ , I don’t think Chrissy can afford anything else for you.” I bowed my head sadly. He was right. This place was awful, but at least I was safe. Or rather, everyone else was safe from me.

He left after a few minutes with an insincere “ _saloo_ ” which I guessed was some sort of greeting. I sat on the bed, which almost gave way under me, and suddenly became aware of how strange my body felt now that most of the distractions were gone. It no longer felt like my own. I didn’t feel like I could control it at all, and that scared me. And then, I thought of my family. My friends. Even Sara, the ex-girlfriend whose break-up had led to this most unfortunate end. If I was lucky, I’d never see them again. I’d have to make friends out of this dark and bloodthirsty bunch which I’d be sharing a home with for the foreseeable future, and something told me they wouldn’t be eager to befriend me. I put my head in my hands and let the tears come.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**four**

 

As he promised, Tom delivered new clothes to my room by dinnertime. I slipped them on and looked in the little broken mirror that hung beside the bed and, though relieved to see I still _had_ a reflection, was met with an unfamiliar face.

The person in the mirror was extremely pale. His hair was messy and his eye sockets blackened. I’d washed my face since (as Tom put it) my _guster_ earlier, but my lips were a sordid red, almost as if they had makeup on, and still swollen and split a little. For the first time, I turned my head and observed the scar on my neck- it was dark and slightly bruised around the edges, and glared angrily from the crack-distorted reflection. I gulped. There it was, clear as day. The symbol of my transformation.

The clothes I’d been given were not like my own- instead of smart and refined they were ragged and looked as if they’d been thrown together from several different wardrobes- a studded leather jacket, a loose-fitting white t-shirt with material that was far too thin for my taste (or this weather, for that matter), and ripped grey jeans which were almost painfully tight and uncomfortable. Of course, the change of outfit didn’t help my identity crisis in any way.

Tired, confused and wanting to escape this mad new world, I went to bed.

 

*

 

I did not sleep well. The dreams returned, and though less surreal, they were graphic all the same. The memories of the attack that I’d somehow avoided consciously had returned in full force through my subconscious, and I found myself leaping on him, the hoodie who I found myself pitying now, tasting the exquisite blood of his throat and savaging him like a frenzied animal. It kept repeating in my head, flashes of scarlet before my eyes, until I was thankfully woken by the throb of music from the floors below.

It wasn’t late. When I woke, there was still faint blue light from the miserable little window, and my phone told me it was only seven. Yet the pulsing bass from the bar was already seething and voices were chattering. They were here. The pain in my gums was back, and I hurried to the mirror again, and saw that my teeth were bleeding. I hurried into the metre-square bathroom, took a long sip of water, and spat out a mouthful of red.

Curiosity eventually overpowered my fear, and throwing on my new jacket, I slowly tiptoed downstairs. The scene that awaited me was utterly different to the bar from the morning- brash red lights flashed in the undulating mass of bodies, male and female, all in the same rugged dark garb that I now wore, alcohol sloshing out of the glasses and splashing on the makeshift dancefloor. The music was unfamiliar now; slightly electronic with a heavy bassline and relentless percussion that sounded faintly like smashing glass. It was deafeningly loud, and I’m sure the foundations of the rotting old building must have been shaking with the force of each shuddering vibration.

Amongst the crowd, couples of indefinite gender embraced and moved enticingly against each other. Groups of men jumped and chanted with a fierce roar to the shrieking, bark-like melody. The atmosphere sizzled with life and excitement and pure noise. I felt tantalised, seduced by the wild, wicked romance of it all, but waited at the foot of the stairs. I was still an outsider.

 Suddenly a hand grasped my shoulder and I flinched, whirling around to face the intruder, hoping that it was Chris. Instead I was met with a pale ivory face that looked as if it had been carved from the stuff rather than belonging to an actual, real person.

“ _Saloo, presh_ ,” He said, thin lips moving tenderly as he spoke. “You look a bit lost in here.”

His stare was warm and in the hollows of his eyelids I could make out the pale hue of his irises. Every feature screamed with elegance and class, yet was framed with shaggy, wild black hair that shot out in every direction like a sea urchin’s spines. I hadn’t a clue how he’d managed to get so close to me without me even realising.

“ _S-saloo_ ,” I replied. “I am, a bit. I’m new here.”

He nodded slowly in understanding. “Let me get you a _travva_.”

“A what?” I called, but he’d already made his way to the bar. He returned with a dark-coloured drink in a pint glass which had a slightly worrying crack etching its way down the sides. Was everything in here broken?

“ _Noroc_ ,” He said, his eyes glinting at me, and took a swig of the stuff, which I could smell from here. It was pungent and musky and made my eyes water. I didn’t really want to get drunk after last time. “Try some, _presh_! What’s your name?” I was a little disgruntled by his much more fluid, staggering demeanour now.

“Uh, my name’s Dom,” I mumbled as he waved the stinking liquid around my mouth. It made me feel quite sleepy all of a sudden, and though I was scared of the consequences, I didn’t want to offend him, so I took a reluctant sip of it, too. God, the things we Brits do in the name of politeness. It was the strongest drink I’d ever tasted, and almost instantly my sight went hazy. The pale face before me jittered unnaturally before my eyes and I felt myself falling onto him.

“Easy, _presh_ , it’s your first sip,” He breathed, very close to my ear. His hands gripped mine tightly, preventing me from collapsing. “That’s a _froomy_ name. My name’s Matt.”

I looked up at him. His eyes were blue, I could see them properly now, and they were beautiful. I secretly hoped that it was his condition that was responsible for their vibrancy, and that I might share the prize. I’d always disliked my grey ones.

“I don…don’t like it here,” I slurred messily. “Room’s ‘orrible.”

A little smile played on his lips. “I have a better place not far from here. You can stay there, if you want.”

The prospect was excellent. This was exactly what I wanted. A normal house with normal decorations and a private bedroom which wasn’t stained by the visits of its previous inhabitants, and which didn’t have smirking bartenders and sinister music blasting at ridiculous hours of the morning.

“S-sounds good.”

“Yeah? You want to come with me and stay there tonight?”

“Mm-hm.”

He beckoned me with a curled finger and I began to follow him helplessly towards the door, but another hand yanked me back and forced me towards its owner. At first I didn’t recognise his face as it erupted out of the strobe-lighted darkness, but I eventually realised it was Tom once the room stopped spinning.

“Where you going with him, _pacca_?” I didn’t like his disciplining tone. He was talking to me like a silly child.

“’S’not your business,” I blurted out. “He’s got a nice house I can sleep in.”

Concern darkened his expression. “Do you know who he is, Dom? He’s an _uci_ , you don’t want to mess with him-“

“ _Pizda_ , Tom,” Matt hissed, pulling me back towards the door from behind. “You’re ruining our fun. C’mon, _presh_ , let’s go.”

Tom didn’t retaliate, instead shrinking back into the shadows. I was glad of it. I didn’t want to spend another minute in this dump.

 

*

 

I seemed to be falling into a pattern of going into unfamiliar places whilst extremely drunk. Luckily, I wasn’t alone this time. To prevent me falling again, Matt had a tight hold on my leatherbound wrist and led me through the gloomy streets with an amiable cackle at my clumsiness. I found myself loudly laughing along.

“Where’s this place?”

“My house?”

“Nono, the…the place. Th’place we’re in now.”

“Oh,” He smiled right at me. “Doesn’t have a proper name, but we call it _Sangysat_.”

“And, and what’s that…those words?”

“Oh it’s…it’s called _limba_. ‘S from Romanian, did you know? Some _pacca_ thought it’d be a funny joke to use it, ‘cause it’s like, Dracula and all, but…stupid _neno_ didn’t reckon it’d stick, y’know?”

We burst into gaping, ridiculous laughter.

“Dom, Dom,” He panted, patting me heavily on the back. “You’re a _rasfa_ , you know that? A proper _rasfa_ , and I love you.” I hugged him tight, deciding to take that as a compliment. We were almost hit by a car we’d barely noticed as it rumbled through the main road of _Sangysat_ , again descending into crippling bouts of giggles and hiccups.

He practically dragged me up to a dilapidated block of flats, hauling my swaying body into a lift, where I complained about the flickering lights and the bad music. I think I started crying because I felt bad for being so ungrateful to Tom, but it soon passed. The whole time, though, Matt stroked my back and it felt nice and soothing. I decided he was my favourite person I’d met here so far.

The room was nice. In fact, it was lovely. Big windows that gazed down divinely on the slummy areas we’d walked through and sight of the sparkling city centre on the misty horizon. Leather seatees. Cream-coloured carpet that felt so soft on my bare feet. Marble kitchen, for god’s sake. I couldn’t believe that this was only a short walk away from the _desca_ , as Matt called it, that was Tom’s tavern.

“There’s a room for you, if you’re tired.” He led me into a darkened bedroom. There was an abstract, modern painting in a glass frame beside the bed and the same minimalist décor from the rest of the flat. Beautiful.

He left me to my own devices, slinking through the thin slit of light from the door, whispering a calm “ _napte_ ”. I undressed to my underwear and slid under the soft, comfortable sheets. For the first time in a long time, I felt somewhat human.


	5. Chapter 5

**five**

 

 

I slept well for about four hours, but was woken by someone entering my room at ten to twelve. I tensed. I was hungover this time, but I was still very aware that the visitor could be malevolent.

From the silhouette, I could tell it was Matt. The spiky head of hair was unmistakeable. I tried not to breathe as he approached, slowly and silently, drifting hauntingly through the shadows. Alarm swept through me as he crept onto the bed, thinking I was still asleep, and I screwed my eyes shut as he appeared, hovering above me, his breath tickling my cheek.

_Oh god._

“I know you’re awake _, rasfa_ , ”He breathed huskily. Terror blazed in my gut. Lazy blue eyes observed me, and a hand snaked up to rub the side of my shoulder. Still he kept breathing in that weird, languid way. I wasn’t sure that I liked him so much anymore. “I can’t sleep.”

Too terrified to move, I lay paralyzed as he pulled back the covers. Gulped. “Look at you,” He kept saying, over and over again. “Just look at you. Aren’t you _froomy_.” And with that he leant down and licked a long wet stripe, agonisingly slow, over my scarred neck. I whimpered.

“M-Matt, please d-don’t-“

A hand clamped over my mouth and I tried to scream. It’s too much like the night before. I tried to struggle but he pressed his whole weight down on me, and he was so much stronger than I expected. “Shhh,” he purred. “Be quiet, Dommy, you’ll spoil it.”

But then the gentle façade fell. He grabbed hold of both my shoulders and tried to turn me over, but I resisted, pinning my shoulders to the mattress. “Get off me.” I gritted my teeth, trying to put on my toughest voice, but humiliatingly, he laughed in my face.

“No, Dom, don’t make me-“

“I said get off me.”

He drew back his lips in a murderous snarl, then lunged forwards faster than I could react and sank his teeth into my collarbone. I shrieked and kicked against him, all delusions of toughness vanished into the air. I tried my best to shove him back but he was bearing down on me like lead, his hips pressing hard into mine. I realised with horror that this was unfolding just like a scene in a movie. His victory over me was inevitable. But I resolved to hold my ground. I bit him back.

“Fucking-“ He spat angrily. “You little _kurva_.” He grabbed the side of my head and seized my lips in a fierce, unloving kiss, biting my tongue and drawing blood. I yelped as he shoved me back down. Blood in my mouth. Not good. Bad blood.

_A memory tries to crawl its way out._

I shudder. No. Not now. Anytime but now. He drags his nails down my chest and starts grasping at the waistline of my boxers. I force my legs together. I can’t let him win.

_It’s ten years earlier. I’m only fifteen._

Matt draws something out of his trouser pocket as he holds me down. Something little that flashes in the half-light. _A knife_.

_I’m sat on the sofa in my parents’ house. I have a friend over. His name’s Nick._

I try to protest but when I squeeze my legs together, he cuts away at the insides of my thighs. I howl in pain. He cuts the boxers off me, then takes off his own shirt slowly and seductively, his eyes never leaving mine. Every time I try to bar entry, he keeps cutting. It hurts so much.

_He’s my best friend at school. There really is nobody I’d rather spend my time with. We always have fun when he’s around. We’re watching a horror film._

I feel his fingers press against my opening. I thought I could fight him. I was wrong, and I’m bleeding. He’s taken off his pants and tossed the knife away. He doesn’t need to batter me into submission with that anymore. Before he enters me he looks up at me again, at my tear-wetted face, and grins. In that moment I hate him, I loathe him more than anyone.

_The film is Hammer Horror. In the scene we’re watching, the innocent, white-swathed virgin lies in the shadow of a vampiric count. Candles adorn the blue-tinted morgue as he hisses, gathering her up in his rich red cape and baring grotesque fangs. I shudder in fear from where we sit I’m so immersed in the storyline. But I’m distracted from the gory, blood-bathed scene when a hand slowly moves to cover mine._

He’s inside me, and it hurts. It’s nothing compared to the acidic burn of the blood last night, but it’s the emotional impact it’s having is devastating. I’m screaming and crying and protesting all I can, but with each thrust and quick, aggressive grunt he makes, I’m getting weaker. I keep telling myself it’s not over. He hasn’t won, not yet.

_I turn to Nick. There’s a strange look in his eyes I’ve never seen before. I don’t know whether to be scared or excited. But before I can protest he’s moving closer to me, and the ghost of his lips falls against mine. It’s tender and tempting, and we begin to kiss._

_I can’t help but think how much better this is than kissing a girl. It’s wonderful._

Don’t think like that. You can’t afford to think like this.

_The virgin onscreen submits to the vampire as he drains her of blood, and she cries out wantonly, grasping his shoulders in lustful desperation._

Just when I think I can overcome him, and he’ll never get the pleasure of my surrender, he pulls out a trump card. He hovers around my neck, baring his fangs at me. I can only see the shadow of them against the blurry hall light behind him, but they are enough to inspire fear and wonder in me. I wonder why his thrusts have got slower and softer. Then I know.

This is it.

His teeth clamp around the scar on my neck and draw blood instantly. My body falls weak and exhausted in his arms, all the fight drawn out of my bones along with my blood.

He’s done it. He’s broken me.

He sits and pants, pulls out with a low growl, then flashes a despicable smile at me before leaving me wordlessly.


	6. Chapter 6

**six**

 

I didn’t sleep after that. I simply curled into a tight ball and glazed over. I was starting to get that empty feeling again, and the memories of him moving inside me made me feel unwell. And god, the shame. The shame I felt in that I’d given in and let him win. I was pathetic as a human, and I was pathetic now. Nothing had really changed. I was still the underdog, except now my problems were worse.

I’ll admit, by morning I was feeling dead but the main reason I didn’t get up and go back to the Tavern was because I was scared. Somewhere beyond the barely-open door he was waiting. What would he do to me? Would he try and have his way with me again? Or would he fool my confused brain into trusting him, just like he had before? I didn’t even know if it was possible for him to kill me, but I feared it all the same. When I was sure he wasn’t in the ensuite bathroom, I slowly rose from the bed, but I was sore all over. I must have looked like some decrepit old man. I frowned down at the bedsheets. Blood bloomed fabulously from where my abdomen and neck had laid, and it was gorily tiger-striped where the slices into my legs had bled.

After my shower I crawled back into the bed and huddled under the covers _. Don’t come in here_ , I willed him silently _. Please don’t hurt me anymore_.

 

*

 

Sadly, my prayers went unanswered.

I heard the sound of something screaming as he came up the stairs. He must’ve gone out. The door opened and shut with a vicious slam and the wailing got louder. He’d brought someone with him, a woman, I was sure, and she was screeching like some dying creature. His footsteps came loud and fast. I pulled the sheets tighter around me and braced myself.

He peeped his head around the door and stared at me intensely for a brief moment. I turned away. I couldn’t hold his gaze. Still the woman kept screaming.

“Got something for you, Dommy,” He announced loudly, as if addressing a waiting crowd. “Got a right lovely _cadoo_ for you.”

He threw the woman onto the floor and it knocked the air out of her. I felt very sick suddenly, and my throat very dry.

“You know her, Dommy? She was shouting out for you this morning. Asked me where she could find you,” He approached her menacingly and pushed his studded boot right between her shoulder blades, forcing her face into the carpet. “She seemed terribly _misca_. Wailing like a kittycat for you.”

“Y-yes,” I admitted shakily. “Yes. I know her.”

“Who is she to you?” He pressed, his voice shaking the walls. I quivered and tried to hide in the covers. But I hated myself for being such a coward. “Who is she?!”

“Sh-she’s-“ He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and she cried out, her reddened face turned to mine. Mascara was trailing down her face, and haggard sobs were shaking her body which seemed so frail and little now. Dry throat _. No._

“Dom?” Her voice was wet and melancholy. I wanted to help her. So, so much. “Dom, Dom, it’s me, Sara-“

“Shut up!” Matt boomed, crushing her against a wall and forcing new tears from her eyes. Brown eyes. I realised too late. They were beautiful. “Who is she?”

“She’s my girlfriend!” I cried eventually. “My ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh?” Matt purred. He looked down at her. “Shame you didn’t get to see me _dracking_ the living daylights out of this _kurva_ last night _, damma_.” His burning gaze fell on me, and he licked his lips sinfully.  “She dump you _, presh_?”

“Yes. Yes she did.” I hid my head in my hands. I didn’t want to look at either of them. Matt was too frightening. Sara made me too guilty.

“You angry at her for that?” His voice hissed. “That she degraded you, made you less of a man, made you feel like nothing?” Each accusation came with more venom. “That she rejected you?”

“A-a little.” I just wanted her to stop crying. Even when I wasn’t looking I could hear her gasps.

“You want to punish her, _presh_? You want to make her pay for what she did?” And with that he shoved her onto the bed, right in front of me, where I couldn’t ignore her. She turned her face and locked eyes with me pitifully.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the heat that radiated from her cheeks, from her entire body. The frantic rhythm of her heart pounding away. I realised that the positions had been tragically reversed- she was at my mercy now. And god, how hard it was to restrain myself. It was tempting, and I was thirsty again, and the thought of what Matt might do to me if I refused was too terrifying to contemplate.

After a long moment, under his overbearing stare, I made my decision.

“I forgive her.”

Surprise shone in her eyes and her little mouth opened. Matt, however, was incredulous.

“You…forgive her?”

“Yes. I’m not going to punish her.”

He raised an eyebrow in disbelief, and took a few bewildered steps back. Then a humble nod. “Whatever you say _, las_ ,” He grinned, and then hesitated. “I’m afraid I’m not really the forgiving type.”

Before I knew what he was saying or could do anything to stop him, he was upon her. She squirmed, terrified, in his grasp but the pale arms held her fast and I screamed out. His fangs flashed whitely, inch-long but razor-sharp, and sank into the taut flesh of her neck. I kept shouting and begging for him to show mercy but he kept drinking hungrily from the oozing wound. After just a few minutes, she stopped screaming and looked like a little marionette with her limbs white and dangling from his arms.

I fell out of the bed. “No,” I murmured. “No, you can’t…you can’t do that…” Tears were stinging in my eyes again. I was always bawling like a child these days.

“You’re right,” He sneered, rolling the snowy body towards me. “You should get the last few drops.”

I sighed down at her. I hated how inattentive and careless I’d been. None of this would have happened if we’d just stayed together. I’d still be human, and she’d have been alive. “I’m sorry.”

I could feel his eyes boring into me wickedly as he watched me carry out the act. I gathered her up gently in my arms and slightly pressed my lips to hers, before moving to lap tenderly at the wound. It tasted good. Better than I wanted it to. I wanted it to taste so foul I’d gag and retch, but no matter how hard I tried, there wasn’t even a hint of sickliness in each tiny, delicious drop. And the whole time, he didn’t take his eyes off me. He was grinning sourly at me. I hadn’t killed her, but he was satisfied. Drip by precious drip, I was losing my humanity.

 

*

 

He let me go at dinnertime- physically, that is. It would be a very long time before he released the hold he had on my mind- and I trudged soullessly back to the Tavern. The blood had satiated me for now, and I had a sudden longing for the tiny, filthy room. Just anything to be away from Matt and his beautiful home that hid so many nightmares.

I hurried in through the doors, leaving the heavy doors swinging in the wind behind me. Tom yelled my name and started walking towards me, but I blanked him. I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to talk to anyone about what happened. But he must have known something was wrong, cause there was worry in his face that I’d never seen before.

I heard his footsteps behind me on the staircase. I didn’t look back. Thudded down the hallway. Slammed the door shut and sat heavily on the bed, whose anguished springs sounded the way I felt. I heard him rapping his knuckles on my door. I wanted him to fuck off, honestly. Too many moans and screams in my head already that I wanted to forget. The last thing I needed was more noise.

He said something through the door. I covered my ears and bit my lip.

“Fuck _off_! Leave me alone!”

“Dom, I-“

“I said _fuck off_!”

There was a metallic sound and the door swung open.  Shit, I’d forgotten he must have an extra key. He stood there in the doorway, and I could barely believe it. The cheeky smile had been wiped completely off his face. I’d never before seen him- or anyone, for that matter- look so open. So honest. I gazed up at him from the bed.

“Dom,” He said quietly. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

I bowed my head and gave a little nod. I half-expected for him to say _I told you so_ or _it’s your own fault you stupid_ pacca, but the words never came.

He stepped in. “You have to be careful with Matt. You never know what he’s gonna do next. Got something of a reputation round here.”

“You’re not going to blame me?”

“No. It’s not your fault. He’s clever, you know. He outwits everyone at some point. ”

I was touched by his sympathy.

He took a deep breath. “You want to tell me about it?”

“No,” I said, without hesitation. I didn’t want anyone to know. I just wanted to pretend the whole thing had never happened.

“Yeah, well,” He grimaced, looking out of the window briefly, then returning to the door. “Don’t keep it cooped up inside you. It’ll only make you _rau_.”

Then he was gone.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**seven**

 

“Do you serve any soft drinks?”

Tom stood by my solitary table a few days later, a little notepad in his hand.

“Er, we’ve got water.”

“Can I have that, please? And is there anything to eat?” I prayed silently that they didn’t serve some kind of blood sandwich or something. Maybe black pudding was available.

He sucked his teeth. “Not a great idea, _presh_ ,” I winced inwardly at the nickname. Too soon. “Solids don’t go down well with us folk.” When I furrowed my brow, he bit his lip. “Guts really object to it.”

“So…I can’t eat?”

“’Fraid not, _presh_.”

I stared into the middle distance worriedly for a moment. No food? _No food ever again?_

“If you’re hungry, I could always go out and-“

“No thanks.” I cleared my throat and shook a little. “I’ll just have the water.”

I was slowly getting used to life in the Tavern. It was dull, as I hadn’t left the building since that night, but it was preferable to too much action if it was anything like what I’d already experienced. I was growing to love my tiny hotel room, even caught myself worrying about how far Chris’ money would go and how much longer I could stay here- perhaps I was just afraid of being kicked out on the streets. But something in Tom’s friendly grin told me he wouldn’t be quick to get rid of me.

The best time of day to be in the Tavern was around midday. A couple of patrons mingled by the bar and drank quietly in the dusty dining room. The wall of shouting dancers didn’t arrive until later. I never came down at that time in case _he_ was lurking around a corner again. I spent most of my time in the room doing largely nothing, except when Tom would slip a newspaper under the door and I’d occupy myself with a crossword or two.

But no food? That was bad. I was getting hungry again. It had been almost two days since my last meal, and when the water arrived my hand was shaking erratically to the point of spilling half of it on my lap. I got a replacement, but Tom was worried about me. I didn’t enjoy being the object of his pity, but I was thankful all the same. His impact on alleviating my sadness was remarkable.

A familiar, massive shape wandered in through the cold light of the door in a long brown coat and tweed trousers. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the swath of black leather and studs. Chris nodded at me from across the room and joined me. God, was I glad to see him.

“You alright? Settling in here?” A broad smile lit up his rounded features. I tried to smile back, praying it wouldn’t reveal too much.

“I’m okay,” I lied. “Just a bit of trouble on my first night. But I’m fine now.”

But he picked up on it. “Trouble?” He leant towards me.

“Nothing much.” I put my arm in my lap to hide the obvious shuddering. “Just a bit of a run-in with someone who wasn’t so friendly. S’all.”

The dark look wouldn’t leave his face. A heavy hum punctuated an uneasy shifting in his seat. He knew something was wrong. But I kept smiling stupidly to cover my tracks.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

“Just a l-little.” _Fuck._

He sighed at me. “Look, if you’re not comfortable with hunting on your own yet, I’ll get something for you. You don’t need to put yourself through this.”

“But can’t I just…not hunt?”

“Jesus.” He rubbed his face in exasperation. “No, Dom. That means starving to death.”

“Oh.”

The cold chill swept through the room again, as it always did when the doors opened. I lifted my head to catch a glimpse of the newcomers, and instantly wished I hadn’t.

There he was. Walking in like he owned the place. He must have known I was here, but he acted like he didn’t care. He ordered a drink dismissively, and I never caught Tom’s reaction because I never took my eyes off him, not for one second. I couldn’t believe he’d have the courage- or maybe just arrogance- to come here when he knew Tom hated him, and that I hated him too. It was the equivalent of a soldier casually wandering into an enemy trench unarmed.

He caught sight of me and- God, I still can’t believe he did it- winked. Winked with a devilish little smirk that made me want to wring his neck. I was furious.

“Dom?” Chris addressed me. “Dom, what’s-“

I couldn’t hold back. I couldn’t stand this injustice.

I stood up.

“You!” I bellowed, as loud as my shaking voice could allow. “You fucker!”

Silence for a second. Matt looking at me with wide eyes and a confused little pout. My finger struggled to stay still as it pointed accusingly at him.

And to my horror, they descended back into quiet conversation.

“Listen to me!” I cried. “Aren’t you listening? That man raped me. He raped me and killed my girlfriend!”

“Dear God,” I heard Chris mutter to himself. “Dom, for God’s sake, sit down.” He whipped out a book and tried to hide his face in it. I felt disgusted. With everyone.

“But Chris, why aren’t they listening? Aren’t they going to do anything?! Has the whole world gone mad?!

Tom sidled up to me, looking alarmed. “Dom, please, just let it go. You’re upsetting my customers.”

“No!” I roared. My eyes were stinging with frustration. “I’m not letting this go! They’ve got to do something about it, they can’t just let him get away with-“

I was interrupted by a slow, sarcastic applause, lone and terrifying against the soft, murmuring background of voices. I turned to him. Matt.

“Well done. Really, I’m impressed,” He ceased clapping. “You got raped, eh, _presh_? Poor you. You want a fucking _sticker_?”

I was taken aback by his sour words. The tears were coming now, and when I looked around, everyone was sneaking confused looks at me. Some were laughing. Others turned their noses up in disinterest. _Nobody cares_ , I realised.

“You think you’re the only one who’s ever suffered _, rasfa_? The only one in the entire world?” Matt continued. The pet name sent chills down my spine and made my stomach clench. “Well, newsflash, Blondie. It happens to everyone. You’re just like everyone else in this room. A fuck-up just like the rest of us.” He’d got closer, and was only a few metres from me now, close enough so that he could whisper and I’d still hear him. “And everyone in this room hates you, cause you’re a _las_ and a crybaby. Everyone can deal with their problems but you. Dom the whiny little _kurva_.”

I felt breathless and defeated. I tried to get a last word in, but it had sounded more eloquent in my head. “You’ll p-pay for what you did.” Even I didn’t believe it in my whimpering tone.

He laughed. Right in my face. “ _Gress_. They’re all too scared to try any _pizda_ with me.” He turned to a girl nearby and hissed “ _Sugbula_.”

“Hey now, I won’t take language like that in my pub,” Tom interjected. “Get out.”

“Fucking make me, _pacca_.” He retorted. “Actually, no, I think I will leave. I’ll catch something if I stay in this _desca_ much longer.” And with that, he sashayed his way out and into the white light again.

I fell back to my seat, pressing my hands to my face. I’d made such a fool of myself. This place was insane. Tom came over to me and hung around for a few awkward moments.

“Is it true?” He murmured. “Is that really what happened?”

I looked up miserably. “It’s exactly what happened.”

“Shit,” Chris’ deep voice grumbled. “That bastard. Nothing but fucking trouble since the day he arrived.”

“How long’s he been here, now?” Tom asked. “Must be at least seven years since he rocked up here.”

“I make it fifteen.”

Tom looked pensive. “ _Boona_. That’s ages.”

“I know.” Chris got up and brushed his coat off, as if to rid himself of all the nastiness that had just passed. “Time flies, eh? Shame we didn’t have too much fun.”

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**eight**

 

“Wake up.”

I shuddered awake. The nightmares were back. There was a hand on my shoulder blades and I rolled over and out of the bed. Black spiky hair.

“ _Fuck_!” I yelled. “ _Get out_!”

“Shhh,” He whispered, putting a finger over my mouth which I promptly bit. A blob of blood rolled down his finger like a marble. “Well, look at that.”

“What are you doing here? Tom told you to leave.”

He snickered. “When was the last time I did anything he told me to?” He reached over to me but I shrank away from him.

“Don’t touch me!”

“No, I just want to show you something. Get up.” He stood up and gestured for me to do the same, before slinking over to the mirror. I followed him warily, keeping him in my peripheral vision.

“Look,” He said, almost inaudibly, nodding at my reflection. His hands reached around to draw back my lips from behind. “Look at that.”

I gasped. I’d never seen my own fangs before. They must have come out when I was dreaming. Of course, that’s why my gums had hurt. It seemed so obvious now. They were only quite short and stubby, but even in the dark I could make out the defined, smooth edge that had already done so much damage.

I stood there tilting my head at different angles to observe them, running my tongue over them. It was strange. But not entirely bad. I prodded one with my finger. “Ow!” I’d pierced the skin. Some vampire I was.

“Careful!” He hissed. He’d wandered over to the window, which now I realised it was open. The cold air was drifting in like a whisper and it made my hairs stand on end. That’s how he’d got in.

“Why are you here?” I groaned. “You won’t get anything from me.”

He looked offended. “That’s not what I want. I told you to stop whining about it.”

“ _Whining_?” I took a threatening, or at least I hoped it looked so, step towards him. “I’m not whining. You _assaulted_ me.”

“I know, you don’t have to keep telling me.”

“If you don’t fuck off in the next sixty seconds I’m telling Tom.”

“ _Such_ a crybaby.”

“Why are you here?!” I demanded, a little too loud. I heard some of the other residents shuffle in their beds.

“Because,” He said, turning back towards me. “I want to help you.”

I looked at him cluelessly. He was my enemy. He’d hurt me. He’d done nothing but bring me pain and anguish. “Why?”

“I don’t like seeing you starve. You’re fun to play with. If you died, I’d be short of my favourite toy.”

I frowned.

“Dom, come with me. We’re going to go hunt.”

“I don’t want to.” I moved back to the bed but he grabbed my arm.

“You’re shaking like a _nebber_.” Was I imagining the fear in his eyes _? No. He doesn’t care about me. Like he said, I’m just his toy_. “Please.”

I sighed. He was right. I was going to die if I carried on like this. “Can’t I just go with Tom or Chris instead?”

“They’re _las_.” He said the word like it tasted foul. “They won’t teach you the proper way. They’ll hold your hand and treat you like a toddler, and you’ll never learn how to do it on your own.” Then softness. “And if I’m honest, _presh_ , I don’t think you’ll live ‘till morning.”

I felt like a dead weight had fallen onto my chest. “I-I’ll come.”

From the dastardly light that danced in his eyes I knew he was twisting it into an innuendo in his head. Graciously for him, he didn’t say it. “Come along, then.”

 

*

 

We went to the west side, or at least he said so. We could have been anywhere, for all I knew- every street looked the same, filthy and gloomy and sparsely populated save for a few of my fellow denizens of the night. Though, wherever we were, it was somewhat closer to the world of the living; there was the faint red glow of takeaways and nightclubs shimmering in the sky not far away. This was the place people who got lost went on the way home after a piss-up. People out on their own wandering after a fight with a partner or losing a family member. The homeless. People tossed into this dark corner of the world, blown like a paper bag on the wind. This was where the lonely came to die.

It had been difficult getting out of the window. I was trembling so much I almost lost my balance as Matt reached for my hand from the adjacent rooftop. He comforted me that I’d soon recover if I fell and broke any bones. Somehow that didn’t make me feel much better.

He led me through the maze of streets. Frost glittered coldly on the pavement beneath my feet. I was getting that weak feeling in my legs and I thought I’d collapse. Matt’s comment had scared me. Even if my life was hard now, I didn’t want to die.

“M-Matt, I’m hungry.” I babbled, him dragging me along again.

“I know, _rasfa_ , that’s why you’re out here.”

“B-but, I really don’t feel good-“

“Shh!”

He stopped abruptly and I slumped against him. Looking over his shoulder, I realised we were on the very corner of a street, outside a big, smashed shop window. I could smell something rancid.

“Be quiet,” He breathed. “I can see them.”

My stomach rolled uncomfortably. I wasn’t ready to kill yet. Could I even do it? I felt too weak to do anything right now. Though I didn’t want to carry it out myself, I resented the pity of being force-fed. That was just embarrassing.

I peered around him. Oh god. It was a shaggy-bearded man in a large green dufflecoat that shone a sickly brown in the lamplight. His face was wretched and wrinkled, and as he laughed drunkenly to himself, I saw several gaping holes in his teeth. I could smell his stench from here.

“I don’t want to eat that.”

“’Fraid it’s not rich pickings today _, presh_. You don’t have much choice.”

“But-“

“Dom, he’s a sitting duck. He’s _travvied_ out of his fucking mind. He won’t see you coming if you run up to him waving your arms and screaming.”

I gulped and stumbled messily around the corner. The old tramp didn’t react.

“Go on,” Matt urged me. “Do it. Quick.”

I edged closer. The gargled noises my prey kept making were off-putting. He leant against the wall, bathing in the flickering neon light, guffawing repulsively. Still I got closer. Briefly wondered how strange this would look to someone watching me. God, how he stank.

I stopped when I was just a couple of feet away from him. Suddenly he lurched and looked right at me. I froze. His trembling, groggy eyes stopped me in my tracks.

“Y’ come t’arrest me, officer?” He drawled. I didn’t reply. It took me a while to understand what he was saying. “Well y’can fuck off, y’hear. I done fuck all wrong,y’get me?”

“N-no. I’m…I’m not one of the police.”

I heard Matt wince behind me, saying something along the lines of _don’t get talking, you silly_ neno _._ I ignored him.

“What are you doing here? Who are you?”

“You’d like to know, wouldn’t ya, y’prick,” His foul breath blasted on my face and I wrinkled it in disgust. “I got n’where t’go.”

“You’re homeless?”

He nodded exaggeratedly.

“Are you alright?” I asked gently. “Are you in pain?”

“M’chest hurts.” The gravelly voice admitted. “Feet. Back playin’ up. Always fuckin’ cold.”

I saw a way in. “I can make that stop.” I said, louder than I had in a long time. Matt’s sharp intake of breath behind me told me he didn’t really like my approach.

“Eh? Y’take me to hospital?”

“N-no, I can…I can make the pain stop.”

A moment of lucidity passed over his face. “You…you gonna _kill_ me?”

I blanked. “Going to” kill him didn’t sound too good. I wanted to tell him that _I could_ , if he wanted me to. But what if he said no? I’d still have to do it. But then I’d be betraying his trust. For a moment I wished I was like Matt, and the feelings of other people simply didn’t concern me. But it got to me. It had to be his choice.

“’Cause, I wouldn’t mind, If y’did.” His interjection shocked me. I gaped at him in disbelief. “S’long as it was quick. Go ahead and fuckin’ kill me. What am I gonna change in th’world, anyway? M’ just a drunk old man.”

I hadn’t expected that. For a moment I floated into a brief reverie about how we weren’t that different, not really. We’d both been forced into awful conditions by powers that were beyond our control. We were both trapped by our situations and brought to doing depraved and disgusting things. And I guess I couldn’t escape either. Even if I lived forever, I was nobody. I was never going to change the world. My sudden kinship with him made my chest hurt. Could I really kill him, now?

But in the end, it was me or him.

“Then give me your hand.”

He looked confused, but obliged, outstretching a palm to me. I took it tentatively, swallowed, and murmured “thank you”, to him. He didn’t react.

It wasn’t easy. Hungry though I was, I couldn’t bring myself to do it quickly. It seemed wrong. He’d never hurt me. But as I slowly sank my teeth into sallow, wrinkled skin, I felt life begin to tingle at the tips of my fingers again. The rich, metallic taste which was becoming familiar so quickly rejuvenated me. _He wants this_ , I kept saying to myself _. You’re doing him a favour_.

After about two minutes of feeding, he slumped against the wall and scraped his muddy garments coarsely across the concrete. He collapsed in a jumbled heap. It looked like a bundle of dirtied rags, not like anything that had ever been alive.

But as long as I live, I’ll never forget his dying face. It was sort of fear and awe at first, and puzzlement at what on earth I was and what I was doing. But then he understood. And he smiled. Died with a placid grin spread across his world-weary cheeks.

I crouched by him in silence a while. Then footsteps behind me, cold and echoing on the ice-dusted pavement.

“I’ve never seen it done like that before,” Matt said in a ghostly whisper that seemed to evaporate the moment he’d said it. It was like I was hearing someone else. Then it passed. “That was stupid, Dom. What if he hadn’t been so pissed? What if he’d wanted to live?” He lectured me. “You can’t rely on everyone being fucking suicidal, _pacca_. That’s how people waste away and die.”

“What do we do with him now?”

“Chuck him in a skip. Or the canal. Or just leave him here to rot. Anything as long as it doesn’t look like we did it. The last thing we want is to get discovered.”

An idea. “It’s cold tonight. Maybe we should just leave him here. He’ll look like he got hypothermia or something.”

He hummed contentedly. “That’ll do nicely.”

As we quickly hurried out of the area and back to the Tavern a little further out of town. That whole time, I didn’t tell Matt why I didn’t really want to move him. Truth was, it felt wrong. I wanted him to be found quickly and taken somewhere where his body could be used for science. That way, even if he wasn’t alive to know it, maybe he _would_ change the world. Or at least I hoped so. I wasn’t really sure how these things worked.

I felt much better on the way home. Just _moving_ felt so much easier. Matt offered to stay the night, but I gave him a shove towards the window and made him leave. My arguments seemed a lot more convincing now I had some energy in me.

He’d perched, catlike, in the window, teeth glinting in the streetlight, before he left. The straggly strands of curtain, frayed and spectrish, framing him against the darkness that loomed outside. I knew he’d be back. The sadistic spark that danced in his eyes promised me that much.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

**nine**

                                                                                                                                   

He visited every other night, through the same window, every time evading Tom some way or another. Logic told me to set the bartender on him and get him kicked out permanently, maybe even left out of the dreary community altogether, but my instincts begged me not to. What would happen to me if he didn’t help me hunt? Would I lose all my courage and bottle it? Would I starve? What if I managed to get myself arrested for assault, and get everyone found out? It was likely enough, knowing my luck.

Over the next two weeks, I killed a leggy blonde who was drunk out of her mind and damn near crawling across the pavement, a young man smoking weed, a pensioner waiting for the late bus, a boy who was tearing down the street as if his life depended on it, a teenager who was listening to their iPod and didn’t hear me coming from behind. It was interesting how they all had their stories, all these twists and turns in their life which had brought them up to this point. And I was the end of their story.

The first few times, I’d almost had my prey get away because I took so long coercing them. One particularly unpleasant time a middle-aged, rugged-looking man had tried to punch me in the face and it had ended quite horribly with Matt pushing him to the ground as I tried messily to gnaw into the sweaty crook of his neck. I didn’t enjoy resorting to violence. But I swear Matt got off on it or something. I also learned where Matt got the money for his attractive home- he stole money, and sometimes even clothes, from his victims. He compared it to “using every part of the animal”, which I found a little upsetting.

I didn’t really know what my feelings for Matt were anymore. I despised him for what he’d done, the way he’d hurt me when I’d done nothing wrong. I hated his outspokenness. I hated his lack of shame and his crude taste for bloodshed. I hated the way he treated me like an idiot. But he’d saved me. He’d been cruel to be kind and ultimately made me stronger. And bizarrely, I felt somehow freer than I had before _that night_. He’d sparked something inside me that I thought I had forgotten.

But I awaited the day that I wouldn’t need him anymore.

 

*

 

We’d set out about eight-ish and followed a young woman as she left her house. We bundled her into an alley and set upon her. It had been quick. But she screamed so loud I thought we’d get caught. Luckily, no-one came to catch us. Perhaps there were no other humans out there to react to the cries.

After the escort home, I took off my shirt and said _saloo_. He’d corrected me, saying the proper term was _napte_ for now, but I ignored him. I didn’t want to say that word.  I looked back at him.

“Are you going to leave or not?”

He didn’t reply. I narrowed my eyes. Brushed my teeth.

Still there. Staring.

“Stop looking at me, it’s weird.” I complained. “Now go home.”

“I’d rather stay.”

“Whatever. Just don’t come near me,” I threatened. He chuckled.

I kept on the baggy pants Tom had lent me and tucked myself into bed. Matt still stood there, only noticeable from his outline against the chilled blue of the window now that the bathroom light was off.

“You just gonna stand there all night?” I said, but then wished I could withdraw the words instantly. His shadow vanished from view. _Fuck._

The moment I felt his hands on me I jerked violently and pushed him right off me. He rose back up fiercely and bit my bottom lip. Pushed him off again. “I said-“

The hand brushed my hips. Too close.

“ _Get out!”_

I grabbed for the closest object, something cold, smooth and glassy, and hurled it at the dark shape that danced before me. It was heavy. There was a loud smash and a deafening screech, and the scent of blood.

Terrified, I stumbled blindly for my phone. I’d barely used it since I’d come here. The harsh white light shone into the blackness and I saw him, crouched on the ragged floor, clutching a dripping patch of red on his temple that was staining little berry-coloured drops on the carpet. He was wincing in pain, looking up at me with shock. Like he thought it was impossible that I’d fight back. But there was betrayal, too, in the perilous whites of his eyes and the rapid hissing breaths. I didn’t know whether to be proud or ashamed.

I heard quick, heavy footfalls. Tom was coming. The look I shared with Matt was broken as we both glanced down at the weapon, a little Georgian-style porcelain woman who now lay in bloodstained fragments scattered beneath the victim. Matt scrabbled for something in his pocket and I wailed in alarm again, in case it was the knife. But it was a wallet, and he snatched out a note and chucked it at me vengefully.

Tom burst in clasping a torch, and quite honestly I don’t know what alarmed him most- me, shirtless and curled up in my duvet blasting obscenities, Matt holding his skull together, or the shattered corpse of his darling pottery woman. Either way, it brought out a side of him I’d never seen before.

He lunged at Matt with a roar, baring his fangs and pressing him against the wall. My mirror fell from the wall and was blitzed completely with the force of it. I tried desperately to follow the whizzing, whirlwind brawl as it leapt in a terrifying blur of sharp teeth and blood, but my phone blacked out and everything fell into darkness. I found myself having an internal conflict over which of the two I was rooting for. But all the time, I kept yelling.

“Stop! Oh god, please don’t fight! Please don’t fucking fight!” I screamed as I dashed in a panic to the bathroom and smacked the light switch so hard I thought it might bring the whole place down, but when I returned I found Tom holding Matt’s head over the precipice of the window, pressing him in place with a knee to his chest, fists tearing at the collar of his red-dappled shirt. Matt was breathing heavily, blood still pouring from the wound, snarling like a rottweiler.

Tom gave him another shove, inching him further out of the window. “You’re barred,” He rumbled.

With that he let go of Matt, who squirmed a moment in the air before grasping at the wall, spinning dizzily and vanishing off across the rooftop and into the night.

Tom turned after a long moment, still heaving with deep breaths, with a sorry look on his face. There was a searing red cut spanning his left cheekbone where Matt had scored it open. He shrugged his shoulders humbly and gazed with a sad sigh down at his fractured doll.

“I know you’ve been through a lot,” He panted. “But would it be _molloz_ of me to ask you to pay for that? It’s an antique.”

I gulped. I didn’t have any money. Unless-

“Will this do?” I picked up the money Matt had left and waved it a little in the air.

Tom’s expression brightened a little. “ _Noroc, presh_ ,” He took it from me and began to make his way out before peeping back around the door. He went back to the window, took a long look and slammed it shut, drawing the straggly curtains and heading back down the stairs.

I tried to sleep a bit more, but it was hours before it came. I could see the gentle, peachy light begin to climb into the darkness before I finally descended into dreams. They weren’t bad anymore. They were almost normal. It was my waking hours that tormented me now.  When would I finally understand the people here? It seemed that I was no closer to unravelling the enigma that was _Sangysat_.

 

*

 

“I must say, you’re looking much better than you did the last time I saw you,” Chris hummed as we chatted outside the tavern the next day. “You get a good meal?”

“Yeah.” I leant against the wall. “I got some help.”

“Who from? Tom?”

I gulped. “No.”

He thought for a second, then gasped. “… _Matt_?”

I twinged the corner of my mouth. He looked disgusted.

“I thought we told you to stay away from him, Dom.” He growled, and I tried to shrink away into the brickwork. It wasn’t here in full force, but the magnitude and ferocity of his anger was truly something to be feared. “You went with him? After what he did to you?”

“He said I wouldn’t survive if I didn’t come with him,” I hung my head. I consciously decided to omit Matt’s comment about their approach to hunting. I didn’t think it would help the situation.

He grumbled to himself. I think he agreed, and he knew that Matt was right, but he was never going to admit it. “Matt isn’t like us, Dom,” He said more softly. “You don’t belong with him. People like us and people like him should never mix.”

“Why? What’s so different about him?”

I was met with a blazing glare. “He’s just not the same.”

“But-“

“ _Dom_. You just don’t go near him again, you hear?”

I turned away.

He left after that, a long brown trenchcoat fluttering off into the fog.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**ten**

 

I’m dreaming.

I’m on a cold, hard mattress. It doesn’t give at all when I shift on it. It’s like it’s made of stone, maybe marble, as I run my fingers over it. They slide gracefully over the fine, smooth rock. Over me, a sheet is draped, fine and silky soft. I savour the feel of it. It’s so different from my tacky room. I feel like a prince. And how odd, there’s warmth in me that I barely remembered. Could it be I’m human again? I want to cry with joy. Have I really been cured?

Rain spots my face, even though I’m inside, and a vengeful gust of wind almost blows the sheets right off me. I squeal and clutch them close to me. Where’s the weather coming from? There are huge gothic windows before me suddenly, as if the light chooses only to reveal them to me now. They’re smashed and the stormy night is fighting its way through, moaning like a ghoul and shattering the air with earth-shaking bellows of thunder. They burst with blinding light, and as I take in my surroundings, I see the mist that lurks a few inches off the floor, swirling ominously, and the candles that drip their wax indolently onto their surroundings. Statues of angels and demons. Then I know where I am. I’m in the Hammer Horror film. And sure enough, there is a dark, cloaked shape rising from the foot of the bed.

When the light pools in the hollows of his face, I’m surprised to see the Count bearing a very different face. A face with pointed features and blue eyes which take me in lasciviously from a furrowed, elegant brow.

As he drifts up onto the bed, his cloak enveloping it, swallowing it up, I do not flinch. I hold his gaze. Even when his hands creep up my legs and he comes face-to-face, pale cheeks so unbearably close to mine, I refuse to show fear. Not even when he brandishes those wicked fangs, even though technically I’m vulnerable to them again.

“I’m not scared of you.”

He doesn’t reply, just moves closer. Parts his lips slightly and licks them with torturous slowness. Then presses them to mine and it’s too much to take in. His lips. His tongue. His fangs that graze my mouth and the taste of my own blood.

I don’t really know if I’m aware of what’s happening after that. I don’t even know what we’re doing. All I know is that I’m throwing back my head, driving my nails deep into his shoulders, and I’m overwhelmed with a dizzying euphoria. Messy kisses. Blood. Delicious, exquisite pain. It’s so different from before. I’m not resisting anymore. I’m not even putting up a fight. There’s no point- I’m his, I belong completely to him, and I love it.

We twist and turn and entwine in the covers. They are striped in vivid dyes of crimson. Logically, I should be dead. Everything I’ve learnt about this world tells me he should have savaged me to the point that I can’t hold on to life anymore, but instead I’m pressing myself closer to him and laughing and gasping like I’ve never done before. If this is death, if this is the afterlife, then God knows why I ever bothered being alive. This is paradise.

But we’re interrupted. A door I’m sure wasn’t there before swings open and a tall, overbearing form looms over us. A booming voice.

_“What in God’s name is going on-“_

I pull Matt close, his tongue still flicking at my neck. _Matt? Nick? The count?_ God knows. God knows what’s going on.

_“Son, do you have a good explanation for-“_

The television goes fuzzy in front of me. I pull my lips away from Nick’s. I’m scared.

_The virgin screams. She’s been betrayed, and her body slides sluggishly from the Count’s grip._

*

I woke up with sweat burning on my skin. I thought I was having a fever at first. It was a dream. I’m not human. I’m still here, in hell. And for some reason, I’m crying.

I sprang up from the bed and felt myself collapse to my knees. Something was wrong. I wasn’t hungry, not very. But something made me feel like dying, something crippling me from inside. I’d had that dream for a reason. The sobs refused to come quietly, instead exploding out of my lungs in shrieking howls.

People were shouting in the rooms around me. I felt awful for waking them up, but I couldn’t stop. This was worse than the hunger. This wasn’t a physical pain. It felt like this had been hiding under the surface, simmering under my skin, and now it had come out unexpectedly, triggered by the events of the last few days.

Tom arrived at my room, embarrassingly coming to my rescue again, this time with a slim young woman with a flurried mane of blonde curls. They slowly helped me up from the floor and paraded me downstairs, much to the disdain of the other lodgers. I must have looked like such a baby then, such a ridiculous spectacle. Matt was right. I was a fuck-up.

I was draped onto a chair in a room behind the bar. I rolled my head backward deliriously. More tears. I took one look at Tom’s scratched face and descended into another round of blubbering whimpers. “I’m sorry,” My wet voice whined. “I’m sorry, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have let him-“

“Shh,” The woman said, stroking my shoulder. “It’s alright. I’m Vicky. I’m a friend, it’s alright.” It was very soothing but the turbulence in my chest wouldn’t stop swirling. I must have been hysterical. I started begging them to slap me to make me stop crying. They refused.

“Dom,” Tom said, keeping his voice low even through my riotous cries. “Dom, please. I told you, you can’t keep it inside. Tell me what’s wrong. Tell me everything.”

“Y-you won’t laugh?”

“No,” He said. Vicky was stroking my forehead, her quick silvery eyes daring to mine at every opportunity. I recognised her as the girl Matt had sworn at the other day. I wondered if she liked me.

I sighed deeply. It was calming me down, just a little. But I hated the lighting in the room. The way I was sat in a lonesome chair, directly under a swaying, hot ceiling lamp, made me feel horrible. Like I was being interrogated.

“In your own time, Dom,” He said.

“When I was younger,” I breathed, as if throwing down a weight from my shoulders. “I-I…I kissed another boy.”

No reaction. I continued.

“And…and my dad caught us together. He was so angry that he, he left us. He left my mum cause he didn’t want to associate with me anymore. And my mum told me that it was wrong to be gay and that it was just something I was going through and I was just being silly, and…oh _, god_ ,” I felt faint. I was talking too fast. I felt like I was going to be sick again. These felt like words that should never be spoken, and it was all happening too fast.

“Keep going,” Vicky urged me, rubbing my shoulder. I wondered who she was to Tom. _Girlfriend? No, that’s not important now. Think, Dom. What happened next…?_

“Ah…I believed her. I deluded myself, I told myself it wasn’t true. I didn’t want her to leave me. I stopped talking to that other boy. I accused him of bullying me and I moved to a new school.” The guilt twisted in my gut. “And that’s stayed with me, all that time. I kept it buried for so long even I forgot it ever happened, but…this thing with Matt, it’s all brought it out into the open again-“ A tremendous wail. I scrunched up my face and pressed it hard into my hands. When I spoke, even I could barely understand myself-“and I can’t believe it, I can’t believe I lied to myself, and I’m so scared, because I don’t know how to cope with this and I hate myself for being so _fucking fake_!”

There were hands on either side of my face. I looked up. Tom had my head in his hands, and was staring at me intently with a serious but compassionate expression. To think I’d found him irritating when I first met him. How foolish of me. He was my lifeline.

“Dom, you need to know something. Being gay, it’s not an issue here, yeah? Nobody will challenge you about that. In this society, it’s just not important, it all just blurs for everyone after a while,” He nodded slowly, and I returned the gesture. “As for the rest, well…maybe you should just try to stay out of Matt’s way from now on. And don’t worry about what happened in the past. What’s done is done.”

I wanted to shout. _You don’t understand, staying away from Matt won’t do anything. It’s too late. He’s already got me_. But he wanted me to be happy. I didn’t want to disappoint him.

They escorted me back upstairs. Luckily, the others had gone back to bed. Tom knew I wouldn’t sleep tonight, but he made the bed nicely anyway, said he’d try and find a new mirror for me.

“We can go out tomorrow, if you want,” he whispered. “We’ll go and get a _guster_ , just you and me, take your mind off it, yeah? I’ll see if I can get Chris to take you out for the day.”

I felt too distant to reply.

*

As I battled insomnia my thoughts moved to Nick. It felt weird thinking about him. I hadn’t done it in such a long time- in my head, the image of him was still fifteen, face not even slightly marred by the world, shorter than usual with brown hair spiked up in a stupid little faux-hawk. But he wasn’t fifteen now. He was twenty-five. He was out there, somewhere, a full-grown man who had inevitably changed since we’d last met. What had the world done to him? Or worse- what had _I_ done to him? Had he forgiven me for what I’d done? Did he think of me, too, like I thought of him?

What if I had turned him into a bad person? It seemed all too believable that he’d find it hard to trust a friend again, that he’d be afraid of following his heart in case the people he loved betrayed him just like I had. The image of him older and embittered towards the world was heart-breaking. Could it be I’d created a monster out of someone so sweet and carefree?

But I guess I would probably never know. He lived in a different world now. A world without monsters and blood and death every day. I almost envied him, but then- that’s when it hit me. In a conversation I’d had with Chris, he’d told me how virtually every story about vampires wasn’t true, except their extraordinary resistance to injury or aging. I’d never get any older than this. It hadn’t really hit me till that point. Twenty-five. The peak of my life _. Forever_. And Nick would wither and die like any other human being.

That was one of the positives of being a vampire, I suppose. So far it had seemed like nothing but a waking nightmare to me. Eternal youth certainly had a heavy price tag. After a lengthy mental debate I concluded that vampirism was ultimately more of a curse than a blessing, or at least, that’s how it felt to me.

But if it was a curse, why had it been inflicted upon me? I’d lied. I’d pretended I was something I was not. I’d been careless. But I had only been a child. Could I really be blamed for what I’d done? Surely it was my parents’ fault, or society? I hadn’t been a murderer. I wasn’t a bad person, not really. Maybe something terrible _had_ happened to Nick, and the penalty had fallen on my shoulders.

And what about the others? Chris, Tom, Matt? How had they fallen into this world of darkness? Had it been chance, like me, attacked spontaneously one fateful night? Had it been a pact with a lover or a friend? I realised that I knew very little about the people here. I’d been so obsessed with my own mentality that I’d forgotten that they were real, multi-dimensional people with pasts and secrets and futures, and not just characters in the horror film that my life was fast becoming.


	11. Chapter 11

**eleven**

 

Chris’ house wasn’t near the Tavern at all. There weren’t usually any cars in _Sangysat_ , save for the immobile, disfigured corpses of cars that lay strewn across the pavements like rubbish, so when a monstrous Land Rover pulled up outside the Tavern doors one morning, I shrank back like a frightened animal. The blacked-out window slid away to reveal the rugged face which I so closely linked with safety and sanity, and with a slight grin he’d beckoned for me to get in.

I hadn’t been out of the area for almost a month now. I found myself staring out of the window, amazed by normal civilisation, fascinated by people’s everyday lives. People going shopping. Going for walks in the park. Eating outside together. It was frustrating, to be so close to the mundane, but to have it only just out of my grip. I knew I couldn’t go out there. Not now.

We stopped in an affluent area on the rural-urban fringe. Nestled away down an attractive, leaf-dappled lane was a large, grand house in a pretty Victorian style. I was impressed, but mainly entranced by the surrounding greenery. I’d been holed up in a rainy, grey hellhole for so long that gardens and trees were unfamiliar to me now. It was beautiful.

He let me in, and I shuddered inwardly. It was a nice house. Luxurious. But somehow not right. Maybe it was because the last time I’d been in a house this gorgeous it hadn’t ended well. Or maybe there really was something wrong, something sucking the homeliness out of the comfy, muted interior. The colour theme of beige and tawny browns made me almost laugh. Chris looked very much like a part of the furniture.

The first noise I heard was a high-pitched squeal, accompanied by uneven thumping little footsteps. My blood ran cold. There were _children_ here? Surely that wasn’t safe, with people like me around?!

“Daddy!”

Like a greyhound a tiny little person shot out of a door to my left. I almost jumped out of my skin and found myself clutching Chris’ towering shoulder for safety.  She came to a slippery halt and looked up at me with a puzzled face. I didn’t blame her. It must have been unusual to meet an adult who was scared of her instead of vice versa.

“Daddy, who’s this?” She said, in a tiny, fairylike voice. She must have only been about seven. I realised I wasn’t feeling the thirst right now. I let go of Chris, who was slightly shaking his shoulder to dislodge me.

“He’s called Dom, precious,” He rumbled softly, almost frighteningly reminiscent of a bear. “He’s a friend. Now off you go and find your brothers, ‘cause the adults need to talk in the big room.”

She dipped her head. “Okeydokey.” And she danced out down the hall, vanishing up the stairs.

I was dumbfounded. I’d always seen Chris as the gentle giant out of the menagerie of monsters I’d met here, but him as…a _father_? That was just too strange. Was it even possible for vampires to have children? Was she… _like us_?

“Cheeky one, her,” He smiled affectionately. He’d been warm towards me before, but I’d never seen love like that shine in his dark eyes. He was distracted by the entrance of a shapely woman in a quaint striped jumper and a glass of what I deeply hoped was red wine in her hand. She gave a lively smile when she noticed me.

“Who’s your friend, Chris?” Her voice was low but soft. A firm hand on her wide hips.

He approached and placed a short, brushing kiss on her cheekbone. “Kelly, this is Dom.”

She smiled. “He’s told me a lot about you.”

Then they were both looking at me. It was a little unnerving, being observed like a piece of meat. I had to turn my head slightly to the side. “I-I’m guessing you’re his wife.”

“That’s right,” Her rich voice drawled, and she showed off the golden ring on her finger proudly. The wine glass swung a little nearer to me in her grasp, and the scent of it made me feel unwell. That definitely wasn’t wine. “Found you all alone without your maker, didn’t he? You poor mite.”

 I tried not to lurch away too much when her hand ruffled my hair vigorously. This was patronising. I was new to this world, but not _that_ new.

I shook her hand and the couple led me through the lounge door. I’d only just noticed the gaggle of children that huddled in the darkness at the top of the stairs, eyes flashing and twinkling down at their new visitor, like a nest of carnivorous birds. I tried to ignore them.

 

*

 

We sat in the lounge in smatters of meaningless conversation for about two hours. Chris and Kelly explained to me that they’d “adopted” the children, “saving” them from their mortal lives to raise as their own. They talked about it so tenderly, so blissfully, but my smiles were false. It was disturbing. How long had they been children? Was the girl I saw really just a kid, or was she really twenty? What if she was even older? The idea of being trapped as a child was a hideous and frightening one. But I didn’t raise my concerns. I made my best efforts to remain polite.

“How old are you, Dominic?” Kelly had asked lazily from her spot on the white leather sofa. “Can’t be more than twenty, surely?”

I nodded my head demurely, but there was a niggle in my head telling me that she was only trying to flatter me and the compliment was in fact completely transparent. “A-actually, I’m twenty-five.”

“No!” She exclaimed. “You’re kidding me!” A tremendously exaggerated laugh spilled out of her so suddenly I nearly spilt the drink that was wobbling in my hand.

“Dom, you’re shaking, have a drink,” Chris chuckled. “You haven’t touched it.”

“I-I’m fine-“

“Dom, please?”

I gulped and reluctantly downed the entire glass. The shaking didn’t stop. Not because I was still hungry, but because the situation was becoming increasingly unpleasant.

“I’m 30. Physically.” Kelly continued, disregarding my nervousness. “But I’ve been around for…how long must it have been now, Chris?”

“Forty-eight years, darling,” He said, messing idly with his coat buttons. “And I’m fifty.”

I gasped. “That old? Really?”

“Mhm-hm.” Chris looked to me. “And that’s a long time for us folk.”

I looked at him puzzledly. Surely vampires were immortal? Why was “old” only fifty?

He answered the question for me. “Immortality only really comes if you live in a safe haven with a steady supply of food. Truth is, most vampires live shorter lives than humans. Not because we’re vulnerable, but because…we’re more prone to getting into sticky situations.” He paused, pulling a grim face. “Only real way to kill us is to drain us completely of blood. Which unfortunately is something other vampires are very good at-“

“Chris! I won’t have this morbid talk when we have a guest!”

“Kells, he needs to know-“

“It’s downright inappropriate!-“

I cleared my throat. “Where is the blood from?”

Deadly silence. Two sets of eyes on me.

“Excuse me?” She chirped.

“Well…this,” I said, raising my empty glass. “Where did you get it?”

They looked to each other briefly, then Kelly put on a blinding smile.

“Let’s just say,” She began, looking a little pensive. “We have some willing donors downstairs.”

They must have noticed my eyes widen. It felt to me like they’d popped out of my skull. They had _people downstairs giving blood?_ Now I really felt bad. This was sick. Wrong. The pleasant, welcoming house was only a facade. Something sinister was lurking here. I felt faint.

“I should go,” I said, already making an effort to stand up. “Tom’ll be missing me.”

“Nonsense!” Chris laughed. “He knows you’re here.”

“Well, I, um, I’ve overstayed my welcome. I really should go.”

His face slowly descended into a sullen frown. “If you insist.” He got up, transformed back into his usual miserly self. As I left, I glanced back at Kelly, who looked shocked but not too offended.

“Oh Dominic, do come back soon,” She cooed, helping me put my jacket on. I wondered if she had some sort of fixation with mothering people. That would explain a lot. “You’re _so_ much nicer than Chris’ other friends.”

“I will, don’t worry,” I assured her, but the moment Chris opened the front door I raced out before she could adopt me into her nightmarish brood. Wondered how awkward the car ride back would be.

As I looked out on the deceptively charming house from my seat in the car, I noticed a little face at one of the windows upstairs. I rolled the window down. It was a little boy, even younger than the girl. A powderpuff of blonde hair sat atop a round face and enormous eyes. He looked bored. I gave him a tiny wave, and he looked back at me. I smiled, trying to coax a similar reaction from him. But instead he just stared, uninterested and alarmingly soulless.

I nudged Chris. “Let’s go.”

 

*

 

Back at the Tavern, I couldn’t help but notice a leather-clad figure lurking in the afternoon greyness of the mainstreet as I left the car. _Still alive, I see_. I found myself baring my teeth automatically, expecting Matt to be smirking to himself or planning his next attempt on me from afar, but I was wrong. He looked sad, his face observing its reflection in a muddy puddle. When he noticed me, his eyes lit up fleetingly, and I noticed the wound on his head was already gone. Then his mask of aggression fell again and he threw me a thunderous look.

I held his gaze this time. If I could do it in my dream, I could do it now. After a while he spat a glob of saliva and turned tail. I revelled in my moment of triumph. However small the battle, I’d won over him this time.

Something kept telling me though, buried right at the back of my head, that I’d glimpsed something inside him in that one moment of his weakness. It was something I’d suspected for a long time, actually; that maybe Matt’s arrogance was only a front, that deep down, just maybe, he was insecure. Now that I thought about it, perhaps the reason I wasn’t afraid of him now was because of my unnerving encounter just a little while ago. In comparison to that horror, Matt’s fierce temper and unpredictable actions were surprisingly, comfortably human.


	12. Chapter 12

**twelve**

 

One morning opened with a dreary curtain of rain that dribbled from the rooftops. It was one of those slow days, which you wish would come to an end for some unknown reason, but in which time passes intolerably slowly and you can’t shake the misery from your shoulders. I assumed that meant it was a Sunday.

Time was a strange thing in _Sangysat_ , I’d come to learn; it seemed to limp along unpredictably and with very sudden jolts into the future, like a broken record. It didn’t help that I had long lost track of what day it was, the date escaping me too. Was it October yet? What day had it been when I’d come here? My whole life was blurring, rearranging itself into an abstract surrealist film where the same haunting places and faces flashed up before me and the only thing to punctuate the passing of each day were the meals either Chris or Tom helped me hunt for.

Chris had come to take me on yet another of his increasingly disturbing day trips. The place was called Sutheron’s (and to this day I have no idea who Sutherton was, or how he had come into the possession of the building) , murmuring the name huskily in the same shady tone as always. He was on some quest, I think, to find me places of interest to distract myself from my desolate new life, something to detract from the boredom and the morbidity that dogged me like my own shadow. But of all the dank, dingy bars and the undeniably shitty old haunts he’d taken me to, none held even the slightest attraction for me. Just empty-looking people looming in the corners and the fear of losing the little familiarity I had in Tom and the occasional guests that came and went like bees from the Tavern’s yawning, heaving doors.

Chris had not taken my flight from his house very well. There was an unignorable scowl seemingly carved onto his wild face, and for a few days he’d refused to speak to me, even when we hunted together. That said, he never fed with me around anyway.  He’d just take me out, like taking a dog for a walk. And god, how I wish it had been that mundane. Hunting still wasn’t easy for me. Tom said I’d take to it like a duck to water, but as time went on his words seemed less believable. I began to worry if there was something wrong with me, if I’d never truly be able to fend for myself without them. Maybe Matt was right again.

But the thoughts of those glossy blue eyes were far removed as Chris led me around the corner from my home at the Tavern. The rain was verging on torrential, and I assumed it was lunchtime (though I couldn’t be sure- there was an astonishing lack of clocks in Tom’s place and my own phone had run out of battery a long time ago now) as ashy clouds began to roll in from the crown of an enormous, geometrically-styled black building. I tipped my head back up to observe a buzzing red neon light, for some reason still on in daylight, which spelt “SUTHERTON’S” out in a font which probably would have been stylish about ten years ago. I shuddered inwardly. This looked like a mobster’s headquarters. The lifeless shine from each pane of glass was sinister and whispered unsettling promises of corruption and general badness that would lurk within.

“This is where my friends are,” He grumbled, the first full sentence he’d said to me in a while. “You should get on with them, Dom, they’re good guys.”

 I found that very hard to believe.

The first few floors of the place were completely deserted, save for a few rats which scuttled through the dust and sifted through massive piles of garbage. The walls were bare cement and a ghostly breeze whistled through the walls even when the weighty glassy door had swung shut behind us. But as we ascended the staircase, each floor arrived accompanied with another layer of surging noise, and a tingle of warmth which permeated my body. We were very slowly approaching civilization.

I was astounded by what we stumbled upon on the seventh floor. Past a pair of unusually lustrous golden doors lay what looked like a small portion of Las Vegas, picked up and flown over the ocean before being dumped inside an oppressive husk of a tower block. Lights and colours dazzled me from within; noises and voices and slot machines and men and women. My senses hadn’t been assaulted by such vibrancy and excitement for a very long time. And what really amused me was that the people weren’t deathly figures, hunched over and pale like the monsters they were- these sparkling, glittering people danced and laughed and shouted. They were alive. And each and every one was draped in such affluent finery, such ostentatious vestments that I couldn’t even begin to know how I must have missed them as they fluttered and jived into this hive of activity.

Chris was smiling now. He could see I was impressed. He turned to me and gestured to the swanky bar, a much less intimidating bartender beaming politely, a neat little bowtie perched between his collarbones.

“Fancy a drink?” He grinned, and I forgave him everything. Chris had been good to me. Who was I to judge him for the way he lived when he could provide places like this for me?

I nodded excitedly.

 

*

 

“You look a little bit out of place, _yubi_ , if you don’t mind me saying.” The third woman to approach me that day murmured as she drifted out of the mess of sequins and laughter.  She was petite, with entrancing golden eyeliner and a small curly bob topped with a splendid fascinator. She looked like she’d wandered straight out of the roaring twenties, her voice low and melodious. I felt a little sad to turn her away and tell her I wasn’t interested. But she was a marvel all the same. Everyone in here was a miniature miracle, a microcosm of normality triumphing over evil. These vampires had made it. They were living the good life.

I couldn’t help but feel, however, that there was something wrong. Why did they dress in such beautiful clothes, and drape themselves in beauty made solid, why did they feel the need to do that? It was almost as if there was something to hide. That notion had made the novelty of Sutherton’s wear off amazingly quickly.

Chris was ever so slightly tipsy. For the first time ever I saw intoxication pass over the face that was usually so controlled, so serious. I’d kept away from the alcohol. My body had inextricably linked drunkenness with extremely bad occurrences, and so I did my best to avoid the stuff. Upon seeing a man in a pinstriped suit wander out from the carnival of cocktail dresses, he let out a tremendous roaring laugh, throwing his hefty arm about the man’s shoulders and dragging him towards me with an uneven, giddy smile.

“Dom, this is my friend, Alistair,” He pinched the cheek of the very noticeably smaller man.  I looked around for my flapper friend but she had vanished like a shimmering spectre into the bustling atmosphere; she must have tired of my dismissive attitude. I turned back.

Alistair instantly struck me as being the businessman type; pink-faced and very obviously having an ego that far extended beyond his physical form. His eyes were small and I couldn’t make out the colour. His toothy grin was impressively arrogant, but somehow fragile in that I couldn’t really believe there was any sentiment behind it. I got the feeling that though they acted as if they were lifelong friends, he didn’t feel even the smallest slither of affection for Chris. I never thought I’d pity the grizzly giant. But then I realised how utterly rude I was being and hurried to say something, anything, to my new acquaintance.

“I, uh, hi,” I mumbled. He must have been _stunned_ by my eloquence.

“Alright, _presh_?” He said in a voice that practically oozed with grandeur and spoke volumes about his self-perception. I knew already that I wouldn’t like him. But I could pretend. “You’re that _pacca_ Chris found all alone, aren’t you? How’d you get that done to yourself, eh?” There was something in the timbre of his voice, something in the shape of his face which was bizarrely familiar, like I’d seen him somewhere before. I’d probably just noticed him wandering around _Sangysat_ ’s slums before, my subconscious only just taking him in as he must have sneered derisively at the area’s less fortunate inhabitants.

“Oh, I was just drunk.”

“Well,” He cackled, a wildly extravagant laugh bellowing from the comparatively small body. He grabbed my glass of lemonade and shook it teasingly. “I see you’re not in danger of _that_ again.” I smiled, even though I hadn’t really heard, never mind understood, his joke yet.

Alistair turned his vocal artillery on Chris. “ _Presh_ , I’ve got to tell you,” He chuckled frivolously. “Me and about six others chased down a whole pack of _sobols_ last night.  Must’ve been like a fucking gang or something. Tell you what, they turned tail and fucking pegged it when they saw us. Not so fucking brave then, were they?” Riotous laughter. “But we caught some _nasc damma_ trying to pick off some of the scraps once we’d torn ‘em down.”

I blinked. _Nasc_ and _Sobol._ Those were words I’d never really heard before. The rest of the _limba_ was fairly understandable to me now, but I didn’t really like talking in it. I wondered what the new words meant.

“-But anyway, we told that _kurva_ she wasn’t entitled to it. I tell you, she won’t be stealing any scraps again. One quick _lupta_ and it was all over for her.” He tapped the side of his nose and I felt a little alarmed. I didn’t like the sound of that euphemism. Once Alistair was distracted by a drink sliding its way across the bar, I elbowed Chris and spoke to him in a hushed tone.

“Chris, what’s _nasc_?”

He stopped smiling, looked over his shoulder, then back to me. “Us vampires tend to only like our own kind. There’s a reason we shouldn’t want to get very close to humans. Cause we end up with _nasc_ ,” I gestured for him to elaborate. He sighed. “ _Nasc_ are crossbreds. Born vampires. They’re not meant to exist, not really. They’re uncontrollable, unpredictable and chaos follows them wherever they go. Alistair _takes care_ of them.”

I gasped a little at the revelation. Genocide, then. That’s what Alistair carried out. But maybe Chris was right. Maybe these creatures really were that bad. They certainly didn’t sound like things that were intended to exist. I was a little fearful in case I ran into one.

“And _sobols_? What are those?”

His eyes flicked sideways for a brief moment. “It’s what we call humans.”

I opened my mouth a little and felt stupid. That seemed very obvious now. Strange, though, that I’d never heard Matt or Tom use it before.

“Have I met you before somewhere _, presh_?” Alistair grunted from around Chris’ cumbersome form. “I swear I know you from somewhere.”

I was baffled. “I…I live in Tom’s Tavern,” I said quickly. To be honest, I hadn’t the foggiest idea where I’d seen him before. The fact that he knew me too was quite frankly unnerving, and the thought of having him try and latch on to me and form a friendship made my stomach churn. I could deal with a casual meeting, yes- but I knew staying with this irritating twat and his overblown ego for too long would make me hurt someone eventually.

“Hah!” He guffawed. I felt a little hurt by his ridicule. “I’m not including you in this, but that Tom runs some kind of fucking kennel. Lets any old mongrel wander in and set up camp. I tell you what, Christopher,” He said, yanking his friend closer, “It’s people like him who are ruining our race. Making _nasc_ think they can help themselves to our homes and our _sangy_. It’s disgusting.” I made a feeble attempt to argue in Tom’s favour, but eventually decided against it. Though I already despised him, Alistair was a worthy opponent and an enemy I did not want to make.

It’s a shame my pacifistic outlook didn’t last for the rest of the day.

 

*

 

Sometime between meeting Alistair and sitting in my favourite corner of my cosy Tavern home, I came to a realisation. At first it was nothing, just a thought that passed briefly through my stream of consciousness before disappearing into the whispering mass of ideas. It had sparked up brilliantly as I cast my sorry gaze over the flapper-girl’s softly glistening eyes, wondering why she masked herself so. I’d begun to pick up on it more the longer I stayed in Sutherton’s- the glamorous décor, the people’s trivial conversation and their hedonism and their blissful disdain of the squalor that writhed in the streets six floors beneath them. They nestled in their perfect haven and pretended it didn’t exist. They let people like me risk starvation and squabble at tear at each other in pure desperation to remain alive. And they didn’t care. They lay back in their recliners and chatted at their bars and laughed scornfully down at the petty peasants, ignoring their own ignorance and denying their own deadliness.

I was already angry by the time I returned, and to my distaste the pub was quite busy. The regular crowd from the evening (whose parties still stopped me from sleeping at night) had arrived earlier than usual, and were already leering at me as I hid myself away in my typical spot. They talked too, about friends and events and one mention of how the year had gone so very quickly. It irritated me. I couldn’t stand how bloody normal it all was. It wasn’t much better than the Sutherton’s crowd at all.

Tom perked up when he saw me and milled over to serve me. My hand jittered a little as my hunger decided to make itself known once more.

“Dom, you want to go out tonight?” He raised an eyebrow, smiling innocently. “We can get a bite to eat,” He said, clicking his tongue.

For some reason, I was hit with the sudden acknowledgement that the man stood before me was not just a bartender. Not just my friend. Not just a vampire. He was a murderer. Tom killed people; he’d killed lots of people. Everyone around me, everyone in this pub, was a serial killer too. They killed people on a regular basis and didn’t think twice about it.

The reason I found this so utterly repulsive was that I had, over the last few days, developed a furious hatred for people who lied to themselves. I hated myself for doing it for so long. I’d decided that I wouldn’t do it anymore, that I’d always be true to myself from now on and I wouldn’t delude myself in any way, no matter how gruesome the truth was. And the problem with people in _Sangysat_ was that they were all liars. They acted quaint and polite and welcoming and infuriatingly sweet but they were monsters, every last one. Even Tom. For all his kindness and humour, he was a fake. Instead of mourning the loss of his own soul or even revelling in the glorious evil he’d committed, he just pretended as best he could that he was human. And that was sickening. This whole place was just one big, fat lie.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I stood up.

“I’m leaving, Tom, I can’t stay here,” I shoved the stool out of the way, which toppled with a deafening clatter. “I can’t be here anymore.” My face felt hot. The others swung around to watch the chaos unfold, muttering and mocking under their breath together. I tried not to look at them. I knew I’d get too angry and start a fight I couldn’t win.

“What? But—Dom!” He cried, turning on his heel to pursue me as I darted up the stairs to grab the few belongings I had here, ignoring the judgemental stares of the patrons. “Dom, why- where are you going?!” He shouted up the stairs. I shut out the emotion in his voice. That would make it easier. “ _What’s wrong_?!”

He followed me all the way in and out of my room, not for one moment piping down or relenting, until we reached the bar area a few feet from the door. I turned my face away as he bugged me, persuading me to stay all he could. “I-I have to go,” I breathed quietly, trying to swat him away. He kept firing questions and pleading with me but I didn’t really hear any of it, I chose not to. Eventually I snapped. “Tom, I- You’re _fake_ , okay!?”

He stopped talking and looked very upset. Guilt burnt in my chest. His silence was more cutting than any remark.

“I can’t stay here, Tom. I can’t live with people who won’t even admit that they’re fucking murderers. I just can’t do it.” I hung my head. Maybe that would hide any remorse I felt.

“But where will you go?” He said, sorrow pooling in the hollows of his eyelids. He was concerned. I resisted.

A sigh. “There’s only one person I’ve met so far,” I panted, exasperated. “One person that doesn’t lie to themselves. Only one person who’s really honest about how fucking twisted they are.”

He knew who I was talking about instantly. His cheeks coloured with fury. “No,” His voice was quiet, but firm. “You are not going to live with him.”

“I have to-“

“Dom, I won’t let you!” He seized me by the shoulders as I made a break for the doors but I shook myself loose and shoved him, regrettably, against the gaudy walls I’d become so accustomed to. The wind must have been knocked right out of his body and he crumpled into a heap on the floor, gasping hollowly. I sprinted out, hoping he’d be alright, and into the cold mist of rain.

My hair was sodden the moment I left the building. It was that fine kind of rain which seems so thin and insignificant but wets you through, and as I charged through the blue-grey air, splashing through puddles and sending the tiny droplets flying around each heavy step, I noticed I was getting completely soaked. My clothes were wringing wet and hanging off me with the moisture that pooled in every fold. But I had to keep running, even if I was tired and hungry. If Tom caught up with me, he’d never let me escape again.

I still remembered the way, no matter how blurry my memory was of that night. I caught sight of the bare breezeblock as it leaned superciliously over the distorted, flooded river that had once been a road. It watched me eerily, and regardless I flew under the porch and into a small patch of shelter.

Through the hall. Into the tacky elevator with the crap music. Into the silent corridor which was swamped with awful memories and the screams I couldn’t forget, no matter how I tried. But I braved the horrors that still resided there, approached that vile door with the number torn clean off by those cruel hands, and knocked hesitantly.

At first I thought he hadn’t heard me, or that he wasn’t home. But as I made to knock one more time it flung open, a malicious face rushing into view, and I let out a cry of terror.

Matt observed me questioningly. His cold eyes rushed over my soaked body icily and a shiver rolled up my spine. He didn’t need to ask why I was here. He knew I’d tell him, if he wanted to know. I wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. But what other choice did I have? I couldn’t stand the sight of anyone else.

“Matt,” I whimpered, shaking as beads of rainwater trickled coolly down my back. “I’m moving in here.”


	13. Chapter 13

**thirteen**

_twelve weeks later_

 

She was just a _damma_ on a night out. Middle-aged, but looked like she still lived young from the strapless, sequined top she wore. I think she was a mother. She was with friends, but she’d just got the wrong bus home. Ended up in the wrong part of town. Very wrong.

We tried to kill her quickly. Figured it’d be nice and fast if we both fed at the same time. We got her right in the street, where anyone could see, but it didn’t matter. The only people out in _Sangysat_ this time of night were others like us, and they didn’t care what we did. Maybe they’d mutter a little to each under their breath. There were lots of rumours about me and Matt, and not many of them were flattering. They called me _kurva_ for going back to him.  One of their favourite names for me was _joacul_ , which roughly translated into “the one who plays with fire”.  Another less flattering one was _sugbular_. Cocksucker. The names they called him stayed the same.

After she’d gone limp, he looked up at me with lustful eyes. The _sangy_ was dripping from his lips, so smooth, so slow. He looked good in the evening light. And you could tell, too, he thought I looked good, too.

We’d been _dracking_ for about two months now. Not that it meant much. It was just a fix we both needed. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t share a longing look like this every once in a while. When we did it he was always on top. He didn’t like it any other way.

He moved his face close to mine, and as we gasped for breath we shared the same air. I’d stopped lying to myself a long time ago. I needed Matt. I wasn’t brave enough to hunt on my own, I still felt amateurish and out of control, but with him it felt like a hobby. A quaint little activity we did together as a form of bonding. And I guess that’s what it was.

I eased myself into his arms and he lightly prodded his nose against my cheek, then moved to playfully nibble my ear just a little. I giggled.

Tom and Chris knew about us. I didn’t really talk to them anymore. They wanted to be nice, I could tell, but I’d disregarded all of their advice in the name of my own enjoyment. I didn’t care about safety anymore. With Matt I was somebody. I was infamous and reckless and I did whatever I wanted. So they retreated from me. I’d become a mascot for everything they didn’t stand for.

Something _dooby_ happened on the way back to Matt’s house that night. As the bluish light shone in the maze of alleyways I now knew like the back of my hand, and we talked about largely nothing, he suddenly grabbed me, like there was some powerful feeling he had for me that he couldn’t restrain, and kissed me. I could still taste the blood in his mouth.

 Matt didn’t kiss me often. Our relationship wasn’t really anything to do with love. As he pressed me against the wall, I supposed he’d want a _dez_ before we went home, and I said I didn’t want to, in case we got caught, and that it was too cold. But then he said he didn’t want to, either. He just wanted to kiss me.

He stopped, took hold of my hand, and I was dragged along wondering what on earth just happened. That wasn’t like Matt. That wasn’t like Matt at all.

 

*

 

Having lots of _sangy_ , as I eventually found out, has a real _maray_ effect on the way you think. Puts you in the mood for a _drack_.  I was no exception. Matt said it himself; a good meal turns you into a _kurva_.

This was the way it’d been with Matt and me for the last month-hunting every night, rejoicing in the taste of it, then wanting nothing more than to just feel the fire of each other’s blazing skin. With Matt, I behaved in a way I’d never done before. Not even with a woman. Each morning I’d wake up regretting it, but each night I’d do it again. So intoxicated by him and his lifestyle. Hands all over him, tongue circling his ear, whispering vile, filthy things to him just under my breath. And he loved it, too. Sometimes I thought about the way I’d been before, hating and fearing him too much to even say his name. What a _las_ I was. So _ridiculous_. It was hard to believe that that coward was the same person I was now.

I carried on that night as if the kiss hadn’t happened. Waited for him to saunter over to the bed and sit down gracefully as he always did, then I’d stand patiently by the door, and wait for him to beckon me with a nod of his head or the lick of his lips. I waited. No signal. So I went over to him, stood right by him and tried to look sultry and seductive. But he just kept staring at the floor. He looked so _misca_ , and I didn’t know why. He loved this. He absolutely loved it when I did this. What was wrong with him tonight?

I knelt. Slipped my palms up his shins and onto his knees. Tried to make eye contact with his melancholy, darkened face. Eventually he looked up at me, but still frowning.

“What’s wrong, _yubi_?” I said softly, rubbing his knee, trying to give him those puppy dog eyes. I would have laughed at myself if he hadn’t been so upset. I sounded like a whore.

He flicked his eyes at mine dangerously. Then a tiny hint of a smile. “C’mere, _rasfa_ ,” He breathed. “You always know how to cheer me up.”

 

*

 

Afterwards, we lay together in the queen-size bed. I’d never been into Matt’s room before I moved in with him. Now I barely ever left. It had a sinister air about it, and its walls were bright red, and it had an ostentatious vase of flowers on the mahogany bedside table. Carnations, I think.

He wouldn’t let go of me. This was strange, too. Usually he’d finish the job and roll over to his side of the bed (if we’d _dracked_ in the bedroom, that was- we certainly weren’t restricted to one room) , turn away from me and only return to me the next night. At first it had upset me. I’d complained to him that he didn’t act like he loved me, and he said to me quite frankly that he didn’t.  Now it was different. When Matt was genuinely affectionate, it disturbed me. In a way, I still had some hate for him, however well hidden, in that I didn’t want him to love me. The idea of Matt loving me was a bit like having a parasite. Unpleasant. Unwanted.

When I first started living there, I’d been frightened. Couldn’t sleep in the spare bed because it scared me too much. Visibly flinched every time he came near me. But in the end I got tired of fighting him. I stopped pushing him away. Let him do what he wanted, ‘cause it wasn’t worth the struggle.  Though I hated doing it, I had to lie to myself and tell myself I enjoyed it when he took me and that I really _did_ want to do this.

 Somewhere between then and now, those lies had become the truth. I _did_ enjoy it. Some nights, like tonight, I was actually more enthusiastic about it than him. I guess it was fulfilling something I’d been longing for now for ten years. I was with a man. We were having sex. And I suppose, in his own wicked, unforgiving way, he was beautiful.

But I didn’t like _this_. Matt’s romantic side was disgusting when juxtaposed with his lecherous one. It was impossible to believe in, sickly-sweet sugary coating to hide the foulness the defined our relationship. I hated it. I hated the way he was holding me now.

“Get off,” I snapped. “You know I don’t like it when you do that.”

“But Dom, I l-“

“Don’t say it.”

He quietened down, and slowly withdrew his arms. I felt a little sorry. It was probably only the physical aspect of our relationship getting to him. He didn’t have any real attachment to me. He couldn’t. People like him don’t feel love, they can’t.

After a long silence, he decided to look me right in the eyes. I cursed him inwardly. I wanted to go to sleep, how could I with his eyes burning into me like that? _Neno_.

“I want to tell you something, Dom.”

For god’s sake. “No, Matt. I’m tired.”

I saw him clench his fists, but his anger didn’t quite bubble to the surface. Not yet. “It’s important, Dom.” And then something trembled in his eyes that interested me. Something fragile and pale. Something I’d never seen before.

I sat up. Put on a bored face, though I wasn’t bored, not really. And then he said something which made my jaw drop.

“Dom, I’m sorry,” He said, clenching his fists again. “All I do is hurt you, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I don’t treat you better.”

I couldn’t believe it. I had thought all he saw in me was a walking _dez_. Someone to traumatise and torture and fuck when he felt like it. And I felt stupid for not noticing all the little hints that had led up to this, his revelation that he actually saw me as a person. I was caught somewhere between contempt that he’d still been terrible to me despite that and overwhelming love for the humanity he’d only shown now. It was precious. A side of him I never thought I’d see.

“And,” He said, and I was shocked by the tiny edge of sorrow that laced his voice. “I-I need to know something, Dom. I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and-and I need to know if you’ll forgive me for what I’ve done if…if,” He rubbed his face and took a deep breath. I couldn’t hide my fascination any longer. It was bizarre to see him unveil his emotions.

“If what?”

“If…If I ask you to be my _amma_.”

Silence.

I was astonished. I really, really couldn’t believe it. On my visit to Chris’ house, he’d explained how his attachment to Kelly was more than just a golden ring and a shared house. They’d performed some macabre ritual, years and years ago, which had made them permanent partners. Forever. Literally forever. I’d even heard than being someone’s _amma_ made you physically incapable of attraction to another person. And that was what Matt wanted? A monogamous existence with me and me alone for the rest of his life? It was the last thing I expected. And I wasn’t sure that I wanted it, either.

“I…I don’t know, Matt,” I mumbled. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

“Definitely,” He said, cutting me off. “I mean, I-“He swallowed, and looked to me, very soulfully. “That’s what I always wanted.”

I frowned and looked away. I think he understood that I couldn’t make that decision yet. I wasn’t ready, I hadn’t completely forgiven him.

“What would we need to do?” I whispered. It suddenly felt unbearably quiet.

He bit his lip. “We’d need to make a blood pact. Like-drink from each other at the same time.” I hope he didn’t see me shudder too much. The idea was a little weird. “And, also, before we do it… there can’t be any secrets between us.”

I nodded slowly.

“And Dom, I’m going to tell you a secret. I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone before.”


	14. Chapter 14

**fourteen**

 

“You want to know why Chris doesn’t like me? Why I’m the only person he wouldn’t go near with a six-foot pole? He says I’m different. And he’s right, I am different. You know how he got that way, the way he is now? He was just like you, got bitten in an alleyway one night by pure chance. And then five years later he met Kelly and he did the same to her, you know? Cause he wanted to live forever with her. And Tom, he actually found a group of them, ten years ago, actually asked them to do it ‘cause he thought it’d be cool. He actually _wanted_ to be like this. And then there’s you, who just had bad luck one night.

“It happened in different circumstances, but in the end it’s the same thing. You all got turned in the same way. The way most people do. Though you might not have realised it, your own actions ultimately led up to that. But there’s something you have to know about Chris. He’s not as _maray_ as you think he is. He’s not just fake. He’s prejudiced. Elitist. He believes that people only become vampires because they’ve been fucking chosen or something. He thinks it’s an honour. And believe me, if you’d have been human when he found you, he’d have killed you where you stood. He’s not a good person. He sees humans as inferior. Calls them _sobols_ , “rats”, behind your back, and keeps them prisoner and uses them as _sangy_ dispensers. And he acts all high and mighty, because _he’s_ been chosen.

“The truth is, I didn’t have a choice. No matter what I did I could never have changed what happened to me. Most people get to choose whether to be good or evil, but I was always going to be evil, right from the moment I was born. Conceived, even. And you know what? I don’t think I ever did anything to deserve this. I was a good kid. I was born to a single mother in a fucking council house but I was good. I loved my mum. I did well at school. I had loads of friends. Up until I was sixteen my life was like a fucking dream.

“But then I started getting _rau_. It started like nothing. Hot flushes. Mood swings. Chest pains. I just thought it was growing pains. But then it got bad. I…I started having heart murmurs. Kept throwing up after meals. And one time I actually had a proper heart attack, but I survived. And every now and again I’d have an anxiety attack and pass out. We went to the doctor’s. They said that I had an “unspecified heart problem”, or some kind of blood disease. And they were fucking right, you know. I had a blood disease. The very worst one of the bunch.

“They put me on medication, and I started to feel a bit better. Either that or I just got used to the symptoms. I carried on doing well at school. I got a girlfriend, and I was in love with her, properly in love. She had that kind of goldy-brown hair, sort of hazel-y, and these big brown eyes. And little freckles on her nose. Her name was Heather, and she was in my year when I was seventeen. And I just adored her. That was when my illness was the worst, you know? So it was just fucking great to have her. I’d been scared nobody would want the sickly kid. And when I was eighteen, it all sort of…stopped. I just felt normal. A bit shaky sometimes, and sometimes I got sick after eating, but apart from that I was fine. My mum said that was just the meds I was on. But you know what they say. Calm before the storm, right?

“I took her out one night. It was fucking freezing, but she kept saying she really wanted to go to the park, so I did. I’d never been proper intimate with her before, so I got really excited when she sits down on this bench and looks at me, all _froomy_ , so bloody gorgeous in that kind of dim light. So I started kissing her, properly, and it was good, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about her heartbeat. ‘Cause I could hear it pounding away, and it sounded so nice. So we start to get really intense. I’m snogging her, and she’s making all these lovely little noises and she’s so soft and sweet…but you already know what happens, don’t you? It’s happened to you too. ‘Cause next thing I know she’s screaming, and I can taste blood, and then she’s not kissing me anymore. S-she’s just lay there. Blood smothering her neck like a ruby necklace. I didn’t know what to do, and so I just held her in my arms and swayed her a little and begged her to come back. But she’s never coming back.

“I couldn’t take it in. Just looked down at myself and thought, “how could I do this? I’m just Matt. Harmless, normal, friendly Matt. This isn’t me. This can’t be me, I’m probably just sick again.” But I’m fucking kidding myself. I think I knew. I knew what I was but I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t believe it could happen this way. But I’ve fucking twigged it, I’m not normal. There’s something different about me, something really different about me, there always has been. So I picked Heather up, propped her up by a little apple-blossom tree, and legged it home. Someone probably saw me, I had all the blood running down my shirt and my neck, I looked like I’d walked out of a fucking horror film. Got home and I collapse, and I’m sure there’s police following me. And I shouted out for my mum. She’d know, right? She’d know what was wrong. She could help me. Right?

“Wrong. Fucking wrong. She walks out and sees me with the dark blood all over my hands and my face and my shirt, and she looked so scared. But not shocked. Not surprised. So I cried, I fell to her feet and I begged her to tell me, why is this happening? What am I? What did I do to deserve this, to have _her_ taken away from me? What did I do wrong? But her lips trembled, and she looks so much older than usual, and she tells me. She tells me who my father was. He’s a vampire, she says. She was only with him for a night and she’s never seen him since. And she was scared this would happen, that I’d turn out this way. And she thinks that’s supposed to satisfy me. To explain everything. Well, it fucking doesn’t. Why should _her_ mistake change _my_ life? Why did she even do it in the first place? Why didn’t she fucking _abort me_ if she thought it’d make my life hell? And even then, why didn’t she warn me? Why did she just sit back and watch me become a monster? And I’m screaming these questions at her, demanding all these answers she just won’t give.

“I never intended to do it. But I did. I killed her. I just didn’t want to look her in the face anymore, cause she’d _gressed_ and covered up the past and let this happen. Unleashed a fucking time-bomb unto the earth. That fucking _kurva_ , how irresponsible, how careless. It’s her fault. And the worst part is, the effects are irreversible. Heather’s not coming back. I’m going to be like this forever. And I think she died willingly when I did it. I hope she wanted to die. Because if I’d done the same thing as her, I know I would. To know I’d created something that was doomed from the start.

“I cried though, after I’d done it. Looked at all of the blood running down my arms. And then I just felt so horrified, so _misca_ , because that’s who I was. This wasn’t something I’d become. This had been fucking… _ingrained_ in me all my life. This was a part of my fucking DNA. And it was something I didn’t want to be. I couldn’t be a musician like I wanted. I couldn’t go to uni and be a doctor like my mum had wanted. I couldn’t even be a fucking failure, some middle-aged spotty _neno_ working in a shitty little McDonalds till the day I died. I was a monster, and I couldn’t ever be anything else. I must have looked insane, I was rocking back and forth and telling myself it was all a bad dream and I was going to wake up any minute. In the end I realised that it was never going to happen, and I couldn’t stand being near her body anymore, so I washed myself in the bathroom and then just ran off into the night. Looking for some cave or some shit where I could live alone like a wild animal. Just anything to make me forget I’d been happy once, that I’d known a good life. ‘Cause I knew I’d miss it.

“But you just fucking guess who found me. I never did get to find myself a hole to crawl into, ‘cause next thing you know there’s a bloody giant, grabbing me by the shoulders and telling me again and again to calm down. And I panicked, because I didn’t know what was going on and he was so much taller than me, and I thought he’d seen the bloodstains on my shirt that hadn’t come out yet. But after a while I heard him saying “it’s ok, it’s fine, I know what you are,”. You know who it was, don’t you? He probably said the exact same thing when he found you. He likes to think he’s being fucking charitable cause he picks up stray dogs off the street like me and you and brainwashes them to be just as hypocritical and bigoted as him. And he told me he’d find a home for me. He took me back to his old house here in Sangysat, before he moved to live in fucking paradise like he does now, and he introduced me to his wife. And how fucking condescending is she? I’m eighteen and she speaks to me like I’m fucking slow. They didn’t have any of their monster children then. I’ve never seen them. Wouldn’t _pissing_ want to.

“They gave me a bed and blood in a stinking wine glass. Expected me to feel like a prince. But I didn’t complain, even though I felt like shit, and I just couldn’t handle what had happened to me and I couldn’t figure out why. I just tried to be polite. Just like you did when you first came here. Cause I thought, what if I disrespect them? Will they make me leave? I’ll die a slow and painful death out there on my own, or even worse, I’ll fucking _live_. So I accepted all their gifts and their luxuries and their mindless compliments. And then they let me use the bathroom.

“I was sat there in the bath, sitting very still and quiet, with all these weird thoughts in my mind. I just couldn’t stop thinking about how it was so unfair, and how there really was no good way out of it, and how I was stuck like this forever and how the only people I met here so far were just so fake. How I’d never had a choice and that it was so pointless for me to be alive when I wasn’t even going to get any older than eighteen. It was a bit stupid of Chris, really, to leave his razor just sitting there. Right where I could reach it. I’d never had these kind of ideas before, not even when I was sick, but it all just seemed so easy. The problem was with my blood, right? So if I got rid of the blood…maybe I would get better. Either that or end it all. It still seemed preferable to living this way. So I reached for it and drew these quick red lines across my wrist, trying to ignore the pain, and it was sort of satisfying how quick it flowed out and started spreading and making patterns in the bathwater. And it all started fading, cause I passed out eventually. It was quite nice. A bit like falling into a soft sweet sleep. And it was so cold, but in a good way. Most of the time I felt really sickeningly hot and like my blood was bubbling in my veins, so it was quite a relief. But obviously, it didn’t kill me, or I wouldn’t be here. Why’d you look so sad, Dom? It didn’t kill me. I got closer to escaping this nightmare than you have so far. You should be fucking jealous. I only wish it had worked, that I could have stayed in that long cold sleep forever.

“But it didn’t. I woke up in my bed, wrapped up in this big smothering blanket, with Chris sat right by the bed, and his eyes looked a bit damp, with big dark bags underneath. He’d been crying. That was the first time I ever saw any proper humanity in him. The last time, too. So he explained to me how what I’d done was wrong, and how worried he’d been when he found me all limp and bathed in red in the bath, and done his best to feed me and get me back to health, and said all this fucking _pizda_ about how I’d been given a gift, that this immortality was precious and how I was superior to humans now. I didn’t know whether to laugh or to punch him in the bloody face. It was just ridiculous, Dom. All a bunch of _gress_. That I was really stupid for wasting this chance. But then, he looked very very sad, and so serious, and then he told me that he hadn’t found a bite on my body and he wanted to know why. I told him I wasn’t bitten by anyone, and it was all my dad’s fault for dracking a human, and he got really angry then. He said then that he was sorry but I couldn’t stay with him anymore, I’d have to go out on the streets and look after myself. And you know what his reason was? His reason for turfing me out on my arse when I literally wanted to die and didn’t have a fucking clue what was going on anymore: “I can’t be seen with you. People will talk.”

“Fucking sick, isn’t it? “Oh, god no, I couldn’t possibly take you _nasc_ scum out where me and my socially elite _presh_ might see you. You’re filth. You’re nothing. You’re a disgusting cross-bred that brings shame to my _oh-so-high-and-mighty_ family name, so I’m going to have to let you starve. What a fucking shame. There’s nothing I could _possibly_ do about it.” What does that say about him, eh? That his own bloody status means more to him than helping a suicidal teenager. But I didn’t kill myself again. I decided I’d prove him wrong. I’d show him that I was strong and I didn’t need his protection to survive. So I practiced hunting on my own. It was hard to bring myself to it at first, so I kept thinking of his self-righteous face as he’d broken the sad news to me, and the anger was usually enough to make me rip my victims to shreds. And cause I acted so ruthless, that’s what I became. That’s why I do the things I do. That’s why I don’t care about other people. Because other people didn’t care for me. I decided that if I was going to be a monster, I’d be the one everyone remembered. Until very recently I had the state of mind that I was going to try my best to be the one people tell their children about at night to frighten them if they aren’t good. I wanted to be the one everyone who went out late feared they’d run into.

“But you changed me, Dom. It took a while- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t change fast enough, that I hurt you- but I’m trying, I’m trying because I’ve realised you’re more like me than I give you credit for. You-you’re beautiful. Really. I’m sorry I don’t say that more often. And you listen to a twisted fucker like me after I’ve been so cruel to you. I’ve been like this for so long that I’ve sort of…forgotten how to be nice. It’s been a long time since I met someone as pure and forgiving as you are. And then I got so frightened the other day when I saw you coming out of his car. That you’d become like him, and he’d made you all fake like he is. I just felt sick. He was the person that made me an outcast from the people I thought were my own. And he was going to take you away, the one person I thought could make me better. Like I could just see you vanishing in front of my eyes. Do you know how scared I was? But of course I didn’t fucking admit it. I’m just a scumbag, I’m revolting. And I barely know why you even stay here with me cause I’m so fucking unworthy. And I want to say this, I want to make you agree to stay with me, because I’m so scared I’ll lose you. And if I lose you, then there’s no point. I’ll probably turn back into the monster I was born to be.”

I sat, petrified, in front of him.

I was utterly stunned by his confession. At the start of the night he’d been my antithesis, my nemesis who had total control over me and spared no genuine affection for me. But now, he had metamorphosed. He was just like me, if not more unfortunate than I was. He was human. He was scared, too, and he had feelings for me and he wanted to be good. He’d tried to kill himself just to escape his own innate evil.

And there were tears on his cheeks. His voice had cracked and turned haggard and raspy from his battle to hold them back. Alarm flashed in his eyes brilliantly.

“But Dom, you don’t have to say yes, I mean, you don’t have to stay with me, I mean why would _anyone do that_ -“

“I’ll do it.”

He gulped.  Stared sceptically for a while. “Y-you will?”

I nodded. “I want it. I want to help you.” I did, in truth. I’d been given a chance to save him. There was no way I was going to pass that up.

“What…now?”

“Not yet. But we’ll do it, I promise,” I said, pushing myself closer to him. It fell into an awkwardly stiff embrace. Uncomfortable and forced though it seemed, perhaps we could discover a real intimacy from here. Eventually.

When the lights turned off, I could be sure I heard him sobbing quietly to himself, muffled by the pillow. I wasn’t totally sure this was what I wanted. But it must have done some good, because I’d coaxed such raw emotion from him that it was like he was already a changed man, not the cold and vicious person I’d once taken him for. Or maybe it was just because he’d never told anyone the truth and never revealed himself like that, his soul laying itself bare. And even if it was for my eyes only, it was a start.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**fifteen**

 

 January had reached us with an unforgiving cold spell.  The first flakes had fallen a few days before, not long after Matt’s confession, coating the usually dour streets with a layer of picturesque white. For a few hours, the blanket had almost hidden every dark secret that brewed here, disguising the place as any other little hamlet. But what had been enchanting and almost reminiscent of my carefree childhood the night it fell had been trampled and tainted to the point that it lay lifeless like slush in the gutters, clogging up the already filthy arteries of our home.

It was as we strolled, like any other couple, through troughs of browning snow that I began to reflect on the last few months which had led us up to this point. I’d immersed myself so much in the here and the now, the excitement and the heat of it all, that I’d sort of forgotten to do all the introspection and self-observation I’d done before.

It was all rather a lot to take in.

 

*

_“What the fuck are you doing here?” He spat. I stepped away, hot breath blasting my face. I’d expected him to be more pleased to see me than that._

_“I…I can’t stay at Tom’s anymore-“_

_“Why not? He kick you out?”_

_“No. I can’t, I just don’t want to be there, I just had to leave.”_

_He looked oddly satisfied with that response, then seized my collar and yanked me inside. I let out a little bark of surprise and tumbled onto the sofa gracelessly._

_“Can’t say I’m that surprised,” He crooned, stepping closer. His eyes scanned my body icily. I tried to decode some kind of emotion but my attempts were futile. I prepared myself for a fight. “I knew you’d see them for what they were eventually. You’re not stupid.”_

_I gulped. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that._

_Seemingly irritated with my silence, he flung himself to lounge beside me, turning his head to observe my flustered face. He folded his arms and I felt cloyed and suffocated by the smugness that diffused from him, choked by his overpowering confidence. Any weakness I’d known in him was cleverly hidden. Maybe I had been mistaken when I saw that pale emotion flash like lightning before my eyes._

_“You know,_ rasfa, _” He sighed. I felt my insides freeze. Not again. I had a sudden understanding of where my foolish feet had brought me, and where the path I trod was bound to lead me now. “I’ll let you stay here for a little while free of charge. But eventually I’ll need you to_ pay the rent _.”_

_I didn’t need an explanation of what he was implying. The perversion that oozed from his voice was unignorable, almost crudely obvious._

_The apartment looked different in the daylight, I remember. Cold and empty and frighteningly spacious. Not the slick illusion of material beauty it had once been. But I couldn’t turn back now._

*

 

A dream. This took place only a few days after I moved in, but it would have been just as appropriate at any time of my stay in _Sangysat._

I’m swimming. The sun is flickering, side-winding its way across ripples and dainty little waves. I don’t know where the water ends. I think it must go on forever. There are other swimmers dotted here and there, but none in my immediate vicinity; most are mere pale spots slowly spanning the horizon. I just keep focussed on swimming, staying afloat, keeping my head above the water. But I’m trying so hard just to keep going that I never find time to stop and relax, or to try and spot land in the distance.

I slow for a minute, just to catch my breath. I must have been treading water for hours. All my muscles ache and I’m not sure how long I can sustain this. For a moment I’m scared that I’ll lose all my strength and sink like a stone to the bottom of the ocean. Do I give in now, or just press on, even though I know I’ll have to stop eventually?

That decision is quickly made for me.

Fingers closing around my ankle. I cry out. What could be that far beneath the ocean? What could live down there in the swirling depths? But it pulls hard, submerging my head. I scrabble desperately for the surface, my hands just scraping the air as I reach out. I’m kicking hard but the creature won’t loosen its grip. Panic sets in. My screams turn to bubbles that whizz away and out of sight. Water in my mouth, my nose, my lungs. Arms seize my torso with another fierce, jerking tug.

I don’t understand. If I’ve drowned, my mind is somehow still active. The water’s so dark. My body feels cold and floaty. Gradually the sea-shadows climb like vines enclosing me, till there’s only a little halo of light directly above me. And in that moment, I’m gobsmacked. The blue of the sky is so vivid, so entrancing. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed it before. But I’m too late. It’s vanishing, shrinking to a pin-prick in the blackness, and then to nothing.

I’m left floating in the chilling prison for what feels like forever, eternally cursing the thing that dragged me down, wishing I’d spied the sun whilst I still could.

 

*

 

I’d only realised that I’d missed Christmas when we saw the fireworks from the apartment. I remember Matt had held me tightly from behind as we tried to do that romantic thing where you look at the stars together. He’d been upstaged by a deafening chorus of explosions and orbs of fire that danced in the sky. New Year’s Day. That’s when I looked at myself and understood how long I’d been like this now, how unnervingly normal it was starting to feel. Uncomfortable though it had been at first, I didn’t want to get used to this. I didn’t want it to feel right. But I couldn’t stop it. Every day I felt myself lose another part of my human memories, involuntarily discarding them as useless- sister’s middle name? Gone.  Work address? Gone. Mum’s birthday down only to the month, and I still wasn’t sure about that. Some memories remained painfully sharp and clear, though, burnt into my mind and impossible to erase- Kissing Nick. My father leaving. Sara’s brown eyes looking away from me. If only I could forget them.

I had missed home terribly that night. I had wondered what my family would be doing now. Would they be putting on a brave face and celebrating without me, carrying on as if nothing had happened? Or were they hunched over in their misery, crippled by their loss and longing on a night where they should be happy? Both scenarios were equally upsetting. I didn’t even know if Mum was still alive. What if my “passing” had finished her off? I never got to say goodbye. And I didn’t care if it wasn’t true and she was fine, because it would happen someday. And I would never get to say goodbye.

It was thoughts like these that often made Matt’s advances a welcome distraction.

 

*

 

 The way Matt treated me had changed after that night. He’d hold hands with me, which was difficult to get used to, especially when we were in public places. Just when the judging glares had finally subsided they came back in full force, shot with intrigue and in some cases, horror. That was usually from the more affluent sector of our little society, which was downright disgusted by the idea of me _actually wanting_ to be with a _nasc_. But that was the main reason for it, I suppose- by exposing his weakness, I’d unveiled a side of him that I was capable of loving, given time. But that wasn’t our only obstacle. The idea of being romantic with Matt was difficult to come to terms with and most days I couldn’t overcome the feeling of pretense when he tried to be affectionate in public.

“What are you doing?!” I spat, crunching my way down the snow-splattered street, as an arm snaked around my shoulders and gripped my arm tight. “People will see.”

He looked very _misca_ and turned away. I said sorry and tried to pull his arm back around me, but I couldn’t stop him storming off. He was in one of his _toanis,_ and he’d never be persuaded. Stubborn _neno_. But he’d be back to his lionising ways by the evening, as he always was. It was almost amusing, the way he fluctuated between worship and loathing when it came to me.

He suddenly halted in his tracks. Out from the off-white murkiness came a dull apparition, the crass stamping of heavy boots the only sound in the silent, muffled atmosphere. Chris rose out of the mist like a vessel carving through sea ice, and we were caught in his path.

“ _Pizda,”_ I said through my teeth, grabbing Matt’s hand and trying to tug him away from the approaching juggernaut. But he stuck fast. “Come on!” Still resisting.

“Dom, don’t be _las_ ,” he snarls, turning his face to mine after a long period of motionless staring. “Just act natural. We’re not scared of him, right?”

I gulped. “Right.”

Chris tried to swerve away from us, his gaze only lingering on us for as long as he could bear, before Matt intercepted him again. With a low grumble, he looked down at the pair of us with surly dismay.

“What the fuck are you two playing at?”

“Haven’t you heard the good news, _presh_?” Matt’s blade-edged voice butted in. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and I had the horrible feeling he was going to do something really, really stupid.

Chris realised he wasn’t going to get out of this easy. “…and what’s that?” He sighed exasperatedly.

Matt prepared himself for the announcement, puffing out his chest and standing on his tiptoes in a rather feeble attempt to look taller than the titan that hovered beside him. A deep breath. I willed him not to speak, not to tell Chris what had transpired between us. I knew that his arrogance would be his downfall, I was certain of it. And I knew Chris wouldn’t take it well.

“We’re engaged,” Matt purred luxuriantly. My stomach churned at his turn of phrase.  I’m not sure what he expected, but he coaxed a reaction from Chris which can only be described as unimaginable disgust. It was as if he’d eaten something sickeningly bitter, the way his face scrunched up into a tight, wrinkled mess, and then dropped his jaw, flabbergasted, squinting in distaste at the pair of us.

“You’re _what_?!”

“Due to be _ammas_ , presh. Isn’t that sweet?”  My heart sank for Matt. How could he do this? Repeatedly letting himself down after being so honest and trying so hard. He didn’t need to rub this in Chris’ face. He was just making a prick of himself to keep up appearances. Again. And the worst part was, he just couldn’t help himself. He hated this side of himself, I knew, but he was addicted to his own image. He was too scared that he’d be helpless again if he let anyone see the real him, and that was the struggle he endured daily, more fierce and confusing than his bloodlust could ever be.

And then, as I was caught in my daze, the darkly hateful eyes swept onto me. “Dom, did he force you into this? Did he make you do this? Because you don’t have to, you know, you’re better than this-“

I wanted to react myself, but Matt cut in again. “Oh for _fuck’s sake_!” He bellowed, standing between us. There was something foolishly proud in his expression, overreaching, too risky. “Have you ever thought, for _one fucking second_ , you big fat _oaf_ ,” A hissing breath. Fists clenched. Ferocious smile. “That I didn’t force him into it? That maybe, just once, you’re fucking _wrong,_ he actually chose this-that he actually loves me? Can’t you get that into your tiny little head?!”

I felt horrid. I shouldn’t be letting him say that. He was making an idiot out of himself, because it wasn’t true. I didn’t love Matt. I just hated him less than everybody else. I wanted him to shut up and stop making me feel so guilty. But he pressed on, went too far, just like he always did.

I should have told him to shut up. But I didn’t. Like the _las_ I was I just let him keep talking.

“-and guess what, fat-arse, there’s nothing you can do about it. It’s going to happen-“ Chris bumped into him, knocking the air from his slight body, and stormed away down the nearest side-street. Matt looked annoyed that he’d lost his audience, curling his lips a bit, then flexing his shoulders and turning to face me. Very quiet. Just snow falling. We marvelled at it like children for a few moments. I tried to move back in time to when I was young and I’d play in the snow with my sister and my dad- my dad, whose name I couldn’t remember now.

“You do love me though, don’t you, Dom?” His voice was very crisp and clear and still so fragile in the muggy air. “I didn’t just make a _pacca_ of myself, did I? You’re gonna be my _amma_ cause you love me, aren’t you?”

I continued staring at the sky, avoiding his eyes. “Of course.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**sixteen**

 

“Are you ready?”

We knelt in sacred silence, a little pool of yellow lamplight in the corner of the bedroom.

This day had come too soon. We’d planned for it and I’d wholeheartedly agreed with the date, thinking it would be far in the future and there would be plenty of time to back out or put it off. The truth was, every day that our union crept closer I found the idea more horrific, more repellent. With each day I regretted signing up for this, but I couldn’t turn Matt down, snatch his salvation from his fingers when he thought he finally had it in his grasp. It was cruel.

But didn’t I have a right to choose whether to sacrifice my happiness for him or not?

It was far too late for that. The next few weeks had rushed up to greet me faster than I had anticipated. There was no escaping this now. I was doomed.

I pushed back my protests and my wishing I’d never met him and all my stupid, vile lies (I hadn’t escaped my hypocrisy in the end) to reply.

“Yes. Yes, I think so.”

And then there was a long moment as Matt hovered strangely before me, second-guessing his next movement, scooting a little closer on the carpet, then breathing deeply. I held my breath, and I could feel warm air stir at my neck. Closed my eyes. Prayed it would be over soon. The buzzing of the lamp too loud, too distracting. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t how it should be. This was sinister.

Was this really what I wanted? Could I still turn tail and run, flee to Tom and apologise for leaving, never come back to Matt ever again? Maybe he’d hurt himself again. But maybe I could live with that. Wouldn’t he be happier dead? That was what he wanted. Wasn’t it? I couldn’t stay with him, my tormentor, my enemy. That was just wrong. But it was too late now. I had no choice but to dip my head and resign. Prepare myself to enter a whole new world of nightmares.

But to my surprise, it wasn’t me who interrupted. No, the voice that cut through the tenuousness was that of my companion.

“I can’t do this, Dom,” His voice crackled like embers. I opened my eyes. “I can’t do it yet.”

I started breathing again, mainly sighing from relief. My fate wasn’t sealed, not yet. There was still time to escape. But I quickly masked that with sadness. “Why not?”

He put his head in his hands, and I felt real worry begin to flutter in my chest.

“Dom, I-,” A palm was dragged languorously across his cheek, where tiny beads of sweat were beginning to twinkle, then slumped to the floor, blue eyes flashing at me with an emptiness in them. He exhaled. “Dom, there’s something else I need to tell you first.”

Oh god. I’d been dishonest with him for so long that I’d forgotten he was capable of lies too. It took me a while to respond. “It’s okay,” I said, reaching for his hand cautiously. Establishing a weak link with his little finger which felt and must have looked a bit odd. “You can tell me now, then.” And I didn’t know why I said it. This wasn’t going to help postpone the inevitable.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

Strange question, that was. _What could he have done that’s worse than what I already know?_

 “Yes.”

“I’m warning you, Dom, you aren’t going to like this.”

“I think I know how to deal with things I don’t like by now.” _That’s right. Run away from them._

The light flickered aggressively.

“Dom, I know more about how you got turned than I let on.”

I nodded, not completely sure what to expect.

“But first, I have to tell you something. I’ve been lonely for so long. The reason I like having you round isn’t cause you’re fun to play with, or because I’m some dirty sadist. That’s not what it means at all. You’re here cause…cause I love you. And I need someone to love me back, because if I can’t be loved then there’s just no fucking point. I need you to know that _I need you_.”

“I thought this was about how I got turned,” I said softly, trying not to hurt his feelings. Not now, of all times.

“It is. Trust me, Dom, it’s everything to do with that. I was alone and fucked up and had nobody. And I missed Heather so much, even after years and years, and I hadn’t loved anyone for so long. Then, one night as I’m creeping around on my own, I hear a great big scream and I don’t know what’s going on. I peep round this corner and there’s some _presh_ , a lurching old creature, draining the life out of some stranger who’s crying out and screeching for his life.”

It suddenly felt so cold in that hot, hot room. Like a phantom had joined us, passing through the window and settling on my frozen skin. It was the reference to my attack that had brought that on. It seemed so long ago now, happening to another person in another world. It was surreal talking to Matt about it. And terrifying that he knew so much.

“So he leaves, and the poor thing-you, I mean- you collapse on the floor with your limbs all askew and your eyes so grey and glassy and I get scared. I think maybe you’ve already gone. So I rush over quick, go over to the body, and the moment I get one good look at the face, I know…I know I’m in love, and I want to be with you so much, and I start thinking about all the things we could do together, how you could make me happy and we’d spend forever together-“

“… _What?”_ I gasped. No. He can hurt me. He can ridicule me and anger me and upset me, but he couldn’t do this, he couldn’t. “You didn’t, please tell me you didn’t, Matt, it’s not true-“

“Let me finish!” His voice rang out in a desperate tone. “I was scared that I’d lose my chance if I lost you, and I didn’t want you to die, so I bit my own wrist and I-“

“No.” I shook my head and got up. My trembling hand moving across the bed slowly and jittering as I snatched up my jacket and I stumbled back into my boots. “Don’t lie to me, Matt. That’s n-not funny. That’s not funny!”

“Dom, you were going to _die_ -“

“ _I wish I had done!”_ I screamed. “You of all people should know that this is as bad as it can fucking get, Matt. You said I should be jealous that you almost killed yourself. And you were selfish enough to fucking _ruin my life_ just so you could make yourself feel better. Was it worth it, Matt? Are you fucking happy with what you did?!”

He opened his mouth, but there was no reply.  A sob caught in my throat.

“I’m going away, Matt.” I fumbled for my scant belongings. _Fuck. Running away again._

He stood up, but not threateningly. “Dom, please.”  He was pleading me, I realised. He was begging me to stay with the tears yet to come already distorting his voice. “I need you, Dom, what am I going to do without you-“

I left before he could finish, bursting through the door. I’d left lots of stuff behind, but I didn’t care. This time I didn’t know where I was going. I just wanted to be alone, away from everybody. I’d only made it a few metres from the door when I heard him behind me and felt his hands try to reach out for me, but I bolted down the stairs, half-slipping on the slimy linoleum, sliding in the damp corridors, and just before I reached the front door he dug his fingers into the shoulders of my jacket and turned me around.

“Dom, I just need you to listen,” he panted, obviously out of breath. Or maybe just panicking. “Just hear me out, Dom, without you my life just doesn’t work-“

He was cut off as my fist collided with his face, an awful crack ringing in the hallway, a little blood spilling from his lips. I hadn’t meant to hit him that hard, but I turned and fled before he could catch up with me again. I caught a glimpse of him rising from his pain to pursue me before the door closed behind me and there was an almighty racket as he pounded his fists on the dull metal, shouting and sobbing with a raw, agonising voice.

I heard my name over and over again, amongst a blur of other words as they ran into each other and mixed their meanings and became cluttered, animalistic sounds that faded into nothing.

 

*

 

I found a slovenly doorstep, cluttered with dust and bits of broken pottery, amongst the chaos of the streets. I sat there a while contemplating what I’d just done. At first it hurt. There he was, the only person who’d loved me in such a long time, and I’d left him in such a vulnerable position to save my own skin. But on the other hand, He deserved it. I felt so betrayed that he’d made that decision for me and stolen my life like that. He was careless, thoughtless and selfish just like the others, and I couldn’t spend the rest of my (probably very long) time on earth with someone like that. And besides, Matt was tough, and that was life. He could probably deal with it in the end. He was used to this, right?

But one thing I couldn’t discard from my memory, like so many dreadful things that still take root there, was the remorse in his eyes as I’d turned away from him. It was familiar somehow. I spent a long time just sat there, thinking of where I’d seen it before. It was long ago, I was sure. I rifled through the archives of my life relentlessly, hunting it down for what felt like hours, and then I found it, on a face that wasn’t Matt’s, but was achingly similar.

Ten years before.

 

*

_“And you say he bullied you, Dominic?”_

_“Y-yes, Mrs Olsson.” I stick out my bottom lip. Blink a lot to make my eyes all glossy. Think about dad. That would make it convincing enough._

_“Mum, I swear I didn’t!-“ Nick protests, sat on the other side of the desk with his mother, opposite me and my mum. But she flashes a venomous look at him that silences those pink lips that I still can’t stop thinking about. I tell myself_ no, you can’t think about that anymore. It’s bad. Mum said it’s wrong.

_“What exactly did he do?” Says our headmistress, Mrs Olsson, from the head of the mahogany table. I noticed it was mahogany because I’ve been staring at it intensely, perfecting my “I’m too scared to look at him” face._

_It takes me a little while to think of a good enough lie, but I play it off by wiping my face and gulping back my tears. Then I look at my shoes and whimper quietly: “He called me a horrible name. And he hit me.”_

_“What name did he call you?” My mum says in her soft warm voice, so bizarre contrasted with when she found out and it was marred with tears and hoarse with rage. She flicks her head at Nick, and I don’t see her face but I know she’s cursing him with her eyes for corrupting her son like this. She was the one who told me to do this, because he deserved it. It was all his fault, not mine. Then back to me. “It’s alright, you can say it here.”_

_I think of the worst words I can, the most awful words I’ve ever heard. “H-he called me a faggot. Faggot, that was it. A f-fucking…cocksucker.”_

_There are audible gasps from around me. I peep through the hands that mask my face, and in the slithers of light between my fingers I see their horrified faces. They’ve bought the lie. They believe me, and it’s satisfying._

_Mrs Olsson speaks first. “Mrs Davies, I’m afraid…I’m afraid that kind of verbal abuse simply isn’t acceptable at this school.” She clenches her fists. She likes Nick. He’s one of her favourite students, and she can’t believe he’s let her down like this. According to me, at least._

_Mrs Davies now. “So Nick can’t stay here?”_

_“I’m sorry, Mrs Davies. Your son will have to be educated elsewhere. We will not tolerate that behaviour.”_

_My mother perks up. “Dominic won’t be staying either, Mrs Olsson.” She does that thing where she tosses her hair to one side and sticks up her nose, looking very aloof. “I don’t think he’s happy here. Our family will be moving away so he can have a new start.”_

_Even more disappointment stains the Headmistress’ face. I sit back in my chair and say nothing. This is all going to plan. I’ll never have to see Nick ever again. I can forget about him at last._

_“Do you have anything to say for yourself, Nick?”_

Oh god _. Horror creeps up my back. All eyes are on Nick and my skin begins to crawl. What if he tells them what really happened? What will happen then, to both of us? It’s inevitable, and the disbelief and emotion that shines so raw and blue in his eyes tells me he’s going to do it. He’s going to expose me and humiliate me, that selfish twat-_

_“No,” He murmurs to himself, eyes staring straight into mine, watering a little, and his face deathly pale. “It’s all true. I called him all those things and I hit him.”_

_My stomach drops. He’s…undermining himself? But why? Why would he put himself in so much trouble, just to keep my reputation untarnished? And then the guilt comes crashing down on me, and even when his family has left and Mrs Olsson ushers us back to our car and we drive back home and start packing, I feel like dying. Because his eyes won’t leave me, they’re haunting me and berating me for my sins, and they won’t go away._

_They’ll never go away._

*

 

I eventually found myself oriented towards the Tavern. I hadn’t been there for months, so maybe Tom would find it in himself to forgive me. I prayed that he would, even though I suspected he wouldn’t. I thoroughly deserved to be turned away and left to die after leaving him like that, he’d been so generous, and I could forgive his pleasant outward personality- of course. The reason he did that was because the truth of his existence was too terrible to face, too awful to admit to. He didn’t deserve to have me rock up and irritate him all over again.

It was night, but for some reason the place was almost deserted. Just Tom, hands on the bar, staring aimlessly into the darkness and a couple of crones in the far corner croaking away to each other. Tom didn’t notice me sneaking in shamefully at first, but he did a double-take when he realised who the intruder was. His face turned sour. Obviously, his wounds were still raw.

“You’ve come back, then?”

I sighed, then approached, looking around the place which looked like a mere skeleton of its former self. “What happened? Where is everyone?”

“I didn’t feel like having anyone round after you called me a big fat fake _, presh_.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, not able to look him in the eyes. “I mean-I didn’t mean to hurt you, Tom. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please, forgive me.”

He looked steely and stubborn to refuse me my pardon for a few seconds, but eventually his expression gave way to an insuppressable grin. “You’re fucking lucky, _pacca_. I don’t always forgive easily.” But his smile was amiable. I knew he was only kidding. I really had missed him. I smiled, too.

“But why are you back, Dom? Something happen?”

I stopped smiling. Visibly sobered by my face, he backed away, reaching for a glass.

“You want to tell me about it, Dom?”


	17. Chapter 17

**seventeen**

 

“So let me get this straight,” Tom said, his eyebrows deeply furrowed and his mouth twisted into a confused frown. “You left him because he’s your _tata_?”

“Yes. Why?”

He laid his fingers on his temple and gave a deep groan. “Dom, he was trying to save your life. He’s a right _neno_ and to be honest I don’t know why you went to live with him in the first place, but he’s done so much worse than that. If you can forgive him for all the other stuff, surely this isn’t that _molloz_?”

I shuffled uncomfortably. He had a point. But it was still selfish for Matt to do that, and even worse to abandon me afterwards, leaving me to carve out a life for myself on my own when I barely knew what had happened to me.

“Why do you think he left me on my own, Tom?”

He looked up pensively and hesitated. “Well, being turned is a pretty nasty experience. It might have been cruel to leave you, but if you’d had known what he’d done then chances are you would never have trusted him. You’d hate him too much for putting you through that. He left you so you wouldn’t blame him for what happened.”

“And you think that’s why he knocked me out, too?”

“Definitely. I’d be thankful for that, _presh_. Better than enduring the pain.”

The old crones had left now, probably going out to hunt, I thought. I was a little peckish, but I didn’t feel like eating. Only now had I come to realise how much I’d overreacted, and how much Matt had already done to redeem himself. Maybe I’d go back in the morning.

“Can I have a room?” I asked quietly, not wanting to impose too much. “Please- just for tonight.”

He chuckled. “What kind of person would I be if I said no?”

“…Number Seven?”

“You’ll have to. You never gave the key back, you big _pacca_.”

I laughed and checked my pocket to make sure I’d grabbed it before I left, and to my relief it was there. I’d never been happier to return to my cosy room, to enjoy the precious solitude while it lasted.

 

*

 

It was exactly as I had left it. I could spot the shirt that I’d realised I’d left behind when I’d gone to live with Matt. Tom had kept it clean of dust, but apart from that it was untouched. Nobody else had stayed here. It was as if I had never left- except for a bright new china doll sitting vainly on my bedside table. I had to hold back a titter.

I crashed onto the bed and coiled myself up in the thick covers, nuzzling my face into the pillows. I felt so snug and warm, wondering how I’d ever managed to tear myself away from this place. Why didn’t I treasure the humility and the simplicity of the Tavern before? I was stupid, I resolved, for only appreciating the true beauty of things once they were already lost to me.

It was dark, and once I’d switched off the bathroom light I fell into a light sleep very quickly, one of those dreamless sleeps where you constantly fade in and out of consciousness. Colour fading and reappearing. Body alternating between stiffness and fluidity. It was a chaotic sleep, and I wondered why, even though I was so comfy and it was just the perfect conditions for sleeping, I couldn’t put my mind to rest. Perhaps it was the shock of finding out what Matt had kept from me, or maybe I was just worried about him, right in the back of my mind. However much I despised him for what he’d done, I couldn’t forget how he’d tried to change since then, and that he was deeply upset by my departure. I was fretting constantly over his well-being. His personality was so volatile that I had no way of knowing if, or how, he would react.

I heard him calling my name in the few fragments of sleep. His desperation and longing and his frustration and all the emotion he’d invested in me so very, very evident. I’d never heard pain like that in his voice before.

 

*

 

“Dom? Dom?”

A knocking on the door. I slipped out of my sleep and off my bed, head still groggy and the turquoise of the early morning leaking from the window. Unsure without a clock, I guessed it was about one in the morning.

“Dom! Are you awake?”

“I am now,” I grumbled unceremoniously, lurching over to the door and dragging it open. Tom stood outside, red-eyed and pale-skinned as I was, seemingly only just woken up, too, but there was an odd look of worry on his face. “What is it, Tom?” I prayed that it was important.

“Dom, someone’s seen Matt walking around.”

I gritted my teeth sourly. “That’s great. I’m going back to bed, so-“

“He was on his way round the corner,” He cut in, leaning forwards to punctuate his point. “He never goes there. He hates that part of town.”

I paused and thought a while, cursing my slow, soporific brain. Then it hit me like a bullet. “… _Sutherton’s_?”

“I know. Why would he be going there?”

Panic shot through me. That place was armed to the teeth with _ucis_ like Chris and Alistair, who would take any opportunity to end Matt’s time on Earth with great pleasure. And why would Matt go to them, right after I left him, me, the person who _made his life make sense?_

“Oh my god,” I said faintly. “Oh my god, Tom, I’ve got to follow him.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“They’re going to kill him, Tom!” I cried. “They’re going to kill Matt!”

His mouth fell open. “ _Pizda_.” He looked away and took a minute to take it all in. I dodged past him, not waiting for him to follow me, dashing down the stairs and through the door.

_I’m sorry, Matt. I won’t let you down, not this time._

*

 

As I ran at full pelt down the main street, my limbs started to feel rather heavy. I’d forgotten how hungry I was, and I came to a painful halt, bending over and feeling cramp gnaw at my muscles, tightness in my chest that made it hard to breathe. This was bad. No matter what was waiting for me at Sutherton’s, I couldn’t face it like this. I’d probably get myself killed along with Matt, and that wouldn’t help anything. I needed blood, and fast. And neither Tom, nor Matt, nor Chris were here to help me.

I’d have to do it on my own.

I wandered around in the blue dark, looking for someone, anyone, to quench my thirst. I was so thirsty that I found myself not caring. Any man, any woman- a child was a stretch. I felt compelled not to hurt a young person if I could help it. But in the end it would be the first person I found.

Eventually I saw someone shuffling quietly in a smoky alleyway. The brash lamplight highlighted the little flicks of his hair, which looked slightly greasy. He must have been about the same height as me. I looked around and saw that this wasn’t that far from where I’d been turned myself. There was a bizarre feeling of nostalgia that drifted over me- this was the last place I’d been human. How strange.

I spied on my prey from around a corner, careful not to let him see me. He was just sort of stood there, not doing much. Just rocking ever so slightly side to side. Then he turned his head so I saw the silhouette of his profile and it struck me how incredibly similar it was to Nick’s. I gasped. _No, God, please no. Don’t let it be him I kill. I don’t want that, please, anybody else-_

I cried out when suddenly a dark shape felled him, shoving the struggling body against the wall. It was horrible, watching someone being assaulted like that, and my panic wasn’t helped by the fact that I was desperate for this kill, and it felt like mine _. I should be the one to do this. That_ neno _stole it._ And something told me, in the way that he fed, or the way he stormed out of the darkness like death itself, and the location of his hunting grounds, that this was the man who was really responsible for who I was now. The one who’d forced Matt into turning me by attacking me that fateful night. In fact, I was certain. Whoever he was, he was the one that should be on the receiving end of my wrath. It was time for revenge.

Without thinking I lunged for the creature, ripping him from his victim’s neck and scoring a searing blow across his nose and lips. My rival fell onto his back, his prey falling from the wall and slumping in a heap. I wasn’t sure if he was still alive, and I thought I’d check, but upon seeing the face of the other vampire my blood ran cold.

Blood dripping down his face. Squinting, beetlish eyes. Pinkish skin. “… _Alistair_?” I should have known there was a reason for my instant dislike of him. Maybe I wasn’t such a bad judge of character, after all.

He narrowed his horrid eyes at me. “You’re…you’re Dom right?” He panted. “I see your filthy _nasc_ boyfriend turned you into a fucking psychopath, you disgusting, depraved-“

I pushed the heel of my shoe into his chest and he wriggled pathetically. He wheezed and I murderously contemplated what to do next. “You cunt,” I droned. “You did this to me, and you don’t even recognise me-“

“What?” His eyes widened again, and upon realising what I meant he suddenly began to writhe around wildly, and new fear gleaming in his eyes that I was beginning to enjoy. “Fuck. I mean, I-I’m sorry, Dom, I didn’t mean- I didn’t think you’d- Oh, shit!” I drove my heel deeper and he squealed in anguish.

I could have done whatever I wanted with him. I could have killed him so easily, fed on his blood, and I wouldn’t have even found it hard. It was so easy to want to hurt him, and for a few minutes I’d almost convinced myself to do it, to send him to hell where he belonged. But in the end, I thought that he didn’t deserve death. One, because people would call him a martyr no doubt and that glory was in no way fitting, and two, because death was too good for him. Better to let him suffer forever, in shame that he got beaten by a hungry, _nasc_ -loving lowlife like me. Yes, that’s what he deserved. Eternal disgrace.

“Get out,” I growled. “Get out of my sight and never come back. You’ll leave me, and Matt, and Tom alone and you’ll never hurt them, not ever, you hear?!” I’d never shouted like this before. It was amazingly cathartic. “And you take all your fucking vile friends, you never come near here, you never fuck with me or any of my friends, or I’ll fucking kill you, you little _pizda_.” And I shoved him with my foot, spitting in his sweaty, loathsome face. He lay there, shuddering like a rodent, before I bore my fangs at him and he eventually picked himself up, scarpering with his arms flopping around and his tail firmly between his legs.

I felt euphoric for a moment as I watched him run away. Triumphant. I’d finally avenged my own death. But then the hunger started chewing through my victory and I remembered that the man behind me was still sprawling in the gutter, still caught in limbo. I whirled round and went to him.

Now that I was closer and his face was in the light, I could see that it wasn’t Nick. His jaw was all the wrong shape, and his mouth too small and eyebrows too light. But he was so painfully similar, still alive, but only just. From the deliciously hot scent that rose from him I could tell there was still a lot of blood in him, so it must have been the shock, or maybe the poison, that was aggravating him. I cradled him softly. I still needed a meal. And he couldn’t be kept alive, not now that he’d seen it all. His eyes flickered up to mine, not quite focussing properly, but so blue.

“What…what’s happening?” He said in a fragile, paper-thin voice, eyes bright with fear. “Who are you?”

“It’s alright,” I whispered. “Just close your eyes. It’ll be over soon.”

I thought he hadn’t heard me at first, but he shut them slowly and obediently after a few seconds. I moved down to his neck and pressed my lips to the little bite Alistair had already made so not to pain him too much, and drank.

I’m not sure exactly when he died, but I felt like I’d done the right thing afterwards. Even if he wasn’t Nick, I still felt in some way that this was the real end of our story, that I could only now let him go. And I had to, because Nick wasn’t important now. Matt needed me, and I was as ready as I’d ever be to save him.

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**eighteen**

 

“Excuse me, have you seen—“

“How did you even get in here?!” Another irritable creature spat in my face. “ _Nasc_ -fucking _pizda_.”

 _Sutherton’s_ was swarming with its regular crowd of bigots and the tightly-packed, writing mass of bodies was producing a choking cloud of heat. I shoved my way desperately through the crowd, digging through the limbs and suits and heaving chests, scrambling for somebody who’d tell me where Matt was, or at least listen to what I had to say. But my reputation preceded me, and none of them had any time for me, not even a woman I’d recognised as the fiery flapper. She’d screeched at the sight and darted away into the shadows as quick as she could.

I snatched the arm of a man trying to escape me as I battled through, pulling him closer to me. He was thin and curly-haired, and panting in fear as we came face-to-face. Inwardly I thought how it must be so very very frightening for him to come into contact with- god forbid- _a commoner_.

“Have you seen Matt?” I snarled, my impatience wearing my temper thin. “You know, spiky hair, really pale, fucking _pacca_?”

“I-I-I think,” He began, sounds streaming meaninglessly from his quivering lips. “I think he went upstairs—fuck, don’t hurt me!”

I pushed him away and searched frantically for the stairs. Did this place even have an upstairs?

My chain of thought was cut off abruptly as the sea of people swallowed me up again and obscured my vision. I scanned the undulating tide of shoulders and heads and hands, but the light was blinding and the heat intoxicating, especially as I’d just fed. I felt as if I were being cooked alive. After about five minutes of suffocating body heat I resurfaced and spotted a shady spiral staircase in the corner of the room, its golden handrail tarnished with use and only a few smokers hanging around in the less glamorous climes. I saw an opening and dashed through, slowing myself when I reached the steps.

The smokers eyed me curiously, wondering why I was so hesitant. I tried to ignore their heated stare, because the thick darkness above me was ominous enough. I honestly had no idea what would be up there, except for Matt. Whether he was still alive or not, I wasn’t sure. But even when I was so scared for him, I couldn’t escape the fear that made me want to shrink out of here and hide in the Tavern for the rest of my life like the _las_ I was.

 _Las_. Coward.

I had been a coward all my life.

I wasn’t going to run anymore, I told myself, and flung myself up into the shadows and out of sight.

 

*

_“Why did you come here,_ nasc?”

_“Lay it off. I’m not here to hurt anyone.”_

_“Why should I believe you?”_

_“Please. Just this once, please just trust me-“_

_“Never fucking mind. Why are you here?”_

_“It-it’s over. He’s gone.”_

_“…What?”_

_“It’s just like you said. He doesn’t love me. There’s no fucking point anymore. He hates me.”_

_“And what do I have to do with this?”_

_“You’ve always hated me. I thought-“_

_“Thought what?”_

_“I thought you’d be fucking happy if I came here and just asked for you to do it.”_

_“…You don’t mean…”_

_“I can’t live like this anymore. Without him…I just don’t want to be alive. Believe me_ , presh, _you’d be doing me a favour.”_

 

*

 

The darkness was thick and so dense that I couldn’t see my feet as they carried me through what my wall-clawing hands told me was a narrow corridor. The first scent that hit me was a musty, woody smell, and the wallpaper felt moist and sticky beneath my fingers. It took longer than usual for my eyes to adjust, but even then all I could make out were a few cluttered wooden boxes and ornaments littering the thin walkway. I knocked something glassy over but didn’t waste time turning to pick it back up.

It was cold, I remember, unusually cold. It felt so untouched and neglected; like no life had been here for as long as anyone could remember, like no light had graced any surface in this shadowy labyrinth. I wondered what this must have been in the past. What function did this place have? Who was the last person to traverse these tunnels before me and Matt? I must have got lost and gone in circles several times, for it felt like there were far too many tunnels to be contained in just one floor and my sense of direction had deserted me completely. But then I caught it, just before it escaped me, and it tingled warmly at the back of my throat. The scent of blood.

New hope fizzed in my chest, partially countered by new fear summoned by the dangerous connotations it carried, and I pressed on, following the aroma like a bloodhound. I broke into a run and scrambled unevenly in the dark, clutching the claustrophobic walls for dear life, trying to ignore the worrisome squeaking of the floorboards beneath each thundering step. It still wasn’t strong, but the scent grew in intensity, to the point that it almost matched the fervour of the young man in the alley, and goosepimples bloomed on my skin. Whoever was bleeding, this was bad. It couldn’t be good if they were bleeding this much.

Eventually I saw the faint glow of amber light illuminating a rickety staircase and I clenched my fists. This was definitely where it was coming from, and I could already hear the plaintive cries of someone suffering there, as well as an unholy growling that made my body tremble.

I blundered up the stairs, mustering the best brave face I could, and almost fell back down them when the scene before me came into view.

Ice. I felt as if I was made of ice from the rush of freezing cold that flashed through every fibre of my being. Astonishing, magnesium-burning white shock assaulting my senses from all sides. My voice stuck in my throat and my body feeling as if it were crushed in a frigid iron fist, because a tweed-cloaked, hulking figure had his back turned to me in a dusty, forgotten lounge. Upon hearing the meek, breathy cry that escaped my lips, he spun on his heel, and I saw that he was gripping the crimson throat of a hapless other creature hanging like a rabbit between his wolfish teeth.

I screamed. Chris’s eyes widened in their sockets and he let go of Matt, who fell like a dead tree to the floor with no resistance or flailing, knocking his head on the pearly white carpet and sending a spray of vibrant red from the awful wound. Not knowing or caring where Chris had gone, I flew to him, crouching over his frail body and shaking him, almost violently, to try and wake him. I wailed mournfully when he remained unresponsive, and soon the words trickled from my lips uncontrolled and in bursts of panicked nonsense:

“No, no, no!” I cried, tears falling onto the face below me which was so ghostly pale, so unnatural and deathly. “No, you can’t leave me, Matt! You can’t just fucking leave me!” I shook him more. The tiniest groan from his red throat made my chest burn. He was alive, but he wouldn’t be for long. Hysterical, I seized his torso and sobbed loudly into his shoulders. I’d been given a chance to save him, and I’d tried so hard, but I was too late, and too stupid. I didn’t know how to help him, and it was so frustrating and nearly sickening to be so close and yet so far away.

I turned around and stared, turning away from the grey face which was my whole world now, and glared through tears at the figure which hunched away in the corner, hiding his face beneath the rim of his hat. How fucking despicable he was.

When I spoke, my voice was broken and sounded rough like sandpaper. “You,” I panted. “You saved him once. Tell me how to do it.” No reply. “ _Fucking tell me_!”

“He came to me, you know,” He muttered lowly, not making eye contact. “He came here and asked to be killed. Said life wasn’t worth living without you.”

“Shut up!” I clutched Matt closer to me.  “I don’t care, just tell me right the fuck now, is he going to die? Or is there something I can do?!” I pressed my face into his chest. It was cold, the skin of his neck, and I remembered when he told me about the first time he’d come this close to death.

_A bit like falling into a soft sweet sleep…so cold, but in a good way…_

“Do you love him? Are you sure he won’t be happier dead?”

I was tired of his questions. He was the villain here, not me. I’d come back, I’d tried to save him, wasn’t that enough? “Stop it,” I sobbed, defeated. “You know how to help him, don’t you? Why won’t you just tell me?”

“You already know how.”

“No I don’t! Tell me! Tell me how to help him _right now_ -“

He surged forwards and grabbed my shoulders, cutting me off unexpectedly. “Think, Dom,” He snarled. “You know how to do this. Just think, because you know. You’ve experienced it first-hand. Just focus and it will come to you.” A pause. “If you’re sure you want to bring him back, that is. If you really love him, you’ll be able to do it.”

I looked back and let my eyes fall over Matt, every feature on his bone-white face, for a clue, anything to show me what to do. And I started panicking, my thoughts racing at a million miles an hour, because I didn’t know. Nothing leapt out at me, no matter how hard I tried to clear my head and concentrate on helping Matt. And I began to cry again, because didn’t that mean the worst? That I was unable to help him, because I didn’t love him? The thought was abhorrent. And I felt so tormented inside, because now I wanted to love him. I wanted him to live and to stay with me and guide me because no matter how strong I got, he’d always know this frightening world better than I did. I wanted to make him better, to show him that he was wrong and he could still be good and live a happy life despite the past and against the odds. I craved his company all the time, to spend each moment with him because I’d grown so attached to him and I’d been so stupid for not realising that. But I couldn’t act on any of those desires or fulfil those dreams, because I didn’t know how to heal him. The one person who had loved me so much it had destroyed him was fading from this world, and there was nothing I could do. So I sat with him and watched each pained twitch of his face, tried to be there in his final hours.

I admired his bone structure, running a finger over his cheekbone as if it were fine sculpture, and brushed a thumb over the feather-light eyelashes which flickered so slightly in his struggle to stay alive. I combed my fingers through the soft spikes of his hair before laying my hand beside the injured neck, stroking the straining muscles as gently as I could. It was so heartbreaking to see him, so close to death, starved of energy, his body emptied of its lifeblood…

And then I knew. The instinct hit me and I felt like slapping myself, because it was so blindingly obvious. This was exactly what had happened to me. I’d been drained, clinging on to life as if it was spun from fragile spider-webs, and he’d saved me. He’d saved me with his own blood. I raised my arm and bit hard into my wrist, squinting with the intense pain, and then pushed it to his slightly parted lips, urging him in frantic whispers to drink, and though it took a while, he started to lap at the blood. And I felt such relief, so much happiness I could cry, and not just because he was alive- I loved him, and I’d saved him, and there was finally hope for both of us.

He came back to us with a spluttering cough, and I took my wrist away leaving his lips stained deep red, and his eyes exploded open. There was still a paleness in the watery blue that made me feel on edge, but already some colour was crawling back into his flesh and I choked up a sob of joy. And I could have danced, screamed, laughed and sung when he began to speak.

“Dom?” the trembling voice came. “Why…why are you here?”

“That doesn’t matter,” I said, cradling his face in my hands. “You’re alive, and we’re going to be okay. You hear that?” I smiled, open-mouthed, and cried hard into his neck. “Were g-gonna be fine.”

“Dom….it was so cold. It was so sweet-“

“Don’t talk like that, Matt-“

“But, I mean,” He stopped and took a deep, shaking breath. “I missed you. And I’m so happy you came back.”

I gulped. “I know. I’m happy too, Matt.” A laugh. “I’m so happy.”

He fell asleep then, and I knew he would be alright from the glow that grew and grew in the hollows of his cheeks and the wide smile on his face as he slumbered. I never left his side, even when I saw the dawn begin to creep warmly through the round windows. I would stay with him, however long it took for him to recover, and fight off anyone who dared come near us from the rat’s nest below us. Chris skulked around for almost an hour before I decided I wouldn’t tolerate him anymore, and he left as soon as I told him to. He was probably disappointed that he’d been proven wrong. He was probably betting on me not really loving Matt, praying that he’d live to see his nemesis die. But that day wasn’t today, and I decided that that day would never come so long as I was around.

I often wonder why Chris tried to help us at all. To this day I am never sure why.

 

*

 

The place had been emptied by the time Matt was fully conscious. He was still limping slightly, wobbling erratically as he ambled down the cold staircase, and he said that he should probably get a  _guster_  but I told him it wasn’t necessary, I could spare my own blood for him now that I could hunt alone. He hadn’t quite registered what I was saying at first, but when he did he looked at me with such amazement, and eventually, pride. It was extremely rewarding. As I herded him back to our apartment I felt an overwhelming air of safety and accomplishment which I hadn’t known since I’d been turned- no, I hadn’t known it for a long time. I hadn’t known it for years, this satisfaction.

After about a week of hunting for two, he was back to full health. Not  _back to normal_ , because he wasn’t the same person he had been in the past. He was happy. He still wore his miserably dark apparel but there was lightness, a joy in his movements which altered everything. He looked so alive, and so thankful for it, that I could barely believe that he was the same embittered, cruel man I’d once known, and the alteration in his very spirit didn’t make me love him any less. Now it was just easier. We would spend our days lying together in silence, because there was nothing to say. We both knew what would happen soon, and by the time he’d recovered we both knew that the time had come.

As soon as he was strong enough, we carried out the ritual. And I couldn’t believe how scared I’d been of something so sweet, so natural, so  _right_ \- because as strange and gory as it might have sounded, it was beautiful. Sensual and soft and quiet and perfect. Everything I’d been longing for all my life. And as for secrets, there weren’t any by then. We’d both realised that our real secrets were things we just knew about each other, not things we had to tell. And when I looked at him I knew that I understood him perfectly, without knowing every detail of his entire life- I knew his soul as if it were my own. And after that, we _dracked_ \- but no, that’s not what he called it. It wasn’t like all the other times, not at all. He called it _desava_ , I remember. And I’d never felt a feeling like it. Simple, slow, and just sat there on the seatee in the apartment. It was like coming home to a place I’d been searching for all my life.

 

*

 

Two weeks passed before he finally left the apartment. By that time spring was already rolling in, the air warm and fizzling with the prospect of new life. I found it strange to think that spring would even bother to step in a place of such darkness and depravity, but sure enough the sun dared to peep through blustery clouds as the wind ferried them idly on their way like little boats in the golden sky. I even saw a butterfly flit past, a little cabbage white, and realised it was the first animal I’d seen in months. The rain still fell, but light and almost like a mist, a thin greyness that hovered in the air.

We were waiting outside the tavern. Not for anything in particular. I’d just wanted to go there and make sure everything was alright, that Chris wasn’t stirring up any trouble. Tom had started as he hauled open the great doors to see Matt staring, but eventually noticed that there was something different about him now, about us, that meant he wasn’t a threat anymore. He turned his head at an odd angle, puzzled and disbelieving that the tyrant could change, and then sighed before smiling giddily. For him, I guess it must have seemed a reign of terror was over.

Our peace was momentarily disturbed by the shouts and riotous cries of a young man. We turned our heads and lo and behold, the awfully familiar massive shape lumbered towards the tavern doors, a dark-haired man, about my age, at his arms and being forced reluctantly in our direction. There was some inaudible conversation between Tom and Chris before the stranger was thrust into the building, a flash of livid blue eyes and then silence but for the steady hum of the rain. I wondered who he was, for there was something familiar about him, but mainly what on earth would befall him in this sullen domain. Would he fall in love, too? Would he suffer? Would he become just like Chris, just as Matt always feared someone would?

But it wasn’t my concern. Just like me, he would have to learn to face the world and take his survival into his own hands. That was the only way he could live here. I held Matt’s hand and kissed him, softly, on the cheek, not without one murderous, vengeful sneer on Chris’ part. I smirked. What could he do, now? What could he do to stop us? Nothing. We were out of his power, now. At last. And when Matt looked at me I revelled in the freedom in his smile, we knew we’d never have to put up with his nonsense ever again.

“I love you.” I said, not really thinking about it. I said it all the time now, spilling it out unexpectedly cause I just couldn’t believe it was real, that it was really true.

“No you don’t.”

I span around to look at him accusingly. I was going to open my mouth to protest but he was still smiling contentedly, a godlike benevolence in his expression. A hand stroked my hair lightly. I questioned him with my eyes to explain himself, and he bore his teeth in a brilliant smile.

“Not yet.”

And I suppose he was right. The life we faced now was certainly one that would make us love each other more purely, more soulfully than ever before. In a world of chaos we had only each other to hold onto, and somehow that was all we really needed. And it was a long road we’d travel, a road that could either be cut off tomorrow- or if we were lucky, stretch on to the end of time. It was unpredictable. It would not be easy. It might not even be a happy life. But at least we would not have to face it alone.

And that was all that mattered, really.


End file.
